The Fool

By Mika Doll

It is this very question General McAllister is faced with, either resigning as the newly-appointed commander of the International Task Force in order to take over the management of House Villekulla, a most exclusive establishment, or going along with Tessa’s ludicrous plan to take on a much larger and even more exclusive establishment. Saint or sinner, no matter how he decides, John knows he is the fool in either case.
Disclaimer: Please take note this is not the classic erotica and rather intended for readers who enjoy a more complex story dealing with various aspects of human sexuality as well as real-life issues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mika Doll
• Release date: Jun 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463016657

Mika Doll

Born and grown up behind the Iron Curtain, and after a decade-long stopover in West Berlin, Mika found a new home in Canada and now enjoys the laid-back country life in picturesque Nova Scotia, a paradise for writers and individualists. Besides raising two children and several chickens, as an outspoken advocate for permaculture, self-reliance and De-growth, Mika is also trying to raise awareness for the challenges of our time, and with a lifelong fascination for history, philosophy and anthropology likes to look in particular from this angle at the complex nature of human sexuality.

Book preview

THE FOOL

An Erotic End-time Story

By MIKA DOLL

Book Four of the Destiny Series

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2019 by Mika Doll

Cover art by Mika Doll, use of tarot cards courtesy of Carl-W. Röhrig.

Copyright Tarot-Cards by Carl-W. Röhrig 2017, www.roehrigart.com

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The issues raised, however, are real.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - The Second Horseman

Chapter 2 - An Almost Normal Day

Chapter 3 - In Private

Chapter 4 - Out Of The Blue

Chapter 5 - Dreams

Chapter 6 - Changes

Chapter 7 - Inheritance

Chapter 8 - Hades

Chapter 9 - Plan B

Chapter 10 - New Management

Chapter 11 - Queen Of Wands

Chapter 12 - Lovocolate

Chapter 13 - Expanding The Boundaries

Chapter 14 - A Night To Remember

Chapter 15 - Contracts

Chapter 16 - Knight Of Swords

Chapter 17 - Back In Business

Chapter 18 - Pain and Pleasure

Chapter 19 - Wardrobes And Whispers

Chapter 20 - Meat Market

Chapter 21 - Misconceptions

Chapter 22 - The Revelation

Chapter 23 - Sunday

Chapter 24 - Marching Orders

Chapter 25 - The Last Night

A Big Thank You To All My Readers

About The Author

Connect With Mika

Chapter 1

The Second Horseman

It was hard to believe for the pilot, but it seemed indeed his intrusion behind the defense perimeter had stayed unnoticed, so far. They probably were still asleep down there. It might be buying him a minute or two. Altitude, speed, and timing of his approach were as precisely as practiced many times in secret before. Talata, etneyn, wached, Major Rahal calmly counted down before he pressed the button that released a laser-guided bunker-busting bomb, modified just for this all-decisive mission. Allahu Akbar! Greater than your greed, you sons of dogs, he shouted.

Getting in had been the easy part. Freed of the heavy payload, Rahal had to stay as low as possible to make a run for it. He followed the riverbed of the Euphrates south. Beneath him, the once mighty river was reduced to just a trickle. For the population further downstream, the water was essential for survival, but there was barely enough for irrigation, which left many of his people with no food and, in the end, with no other option anymore.

Now, the deed was done. In the name of God and the people of the Levant, his group of patriots had been forced to act because diplomacy had long failed them. Politicians had been stubbornly exchanging the same 20-year-old arguments. Like oil, water was a nation’s natural resource, as one party claimed, and they would not presume to dictate their neighbors either how they used their natural resources. Only that the other side could not drink oil or eat money, and therefore millions had already become so-called ‘drought refugees,’ living in camps along the border, and this ironically within in the very country they had been arguing with for so many years already. It was a recipe for disaster.

The political consequences of the attack were the least of Major Rahal’s concerns at the moment. A beeping light told him that they had him on their radar screens and anti-aircraft batteries had fired their missiles. His Sukhoi 27 was a fast and nimble multirole aircraft, purchased second-hand, the latest in their arsenal. Even though it was cramped with highly sophisticated electronics, such as countermeasures for jamming the enemy’s target-finding radar, and despite his confidence in the extraordinary performance capability of his plane, the odds of getting away were very slim. Rahal knew they had him now and would concentrate everything they had on the intruder.

Bailing out over enemy territory was no option. He could be sure they would beat the man to death who killed so many of their innocent countrymen, destroyed their villages, their livelihoods, their future, all washed away in an instant.

Another blinking light came on, beeping urgently, informing the pilot that the first surface-to-air missile had locked on to its target and was approaching fast. One or two, he might be able to dodge, but not half-a-dozen of them chasing after him. Anyway, he was too close to the ground for trying any fancy aerial maneuvers. He had about another two minutes until he would reach his own airspace, which was irrelevant, though, since within in the next 60 seconds all missiles would have caught up with him. Right from the beginning, he had known it would be a suicide mission. The only solace left to him; he was about to die a martyr for his people.

In fact, Major Rahal became the first official casualty of what soon would be called the Water Wars, a war that was waging for many years already, unnoticed by the world, with tens of thousands of nameless victims. After all the battles fought over religion, then over oil, it was now the war for water, threatening to engulf the entire region anew.

Chapter 2

An Almost Normal Day

It was shortly past 5 a.m. when the phone rang. Good Morning, sir. Sorry to wake you this early, but it’s important, the familiar voice of John’s aide said.

It better be, Major.

Sir, reports are coming in from Turkey. About an hour ago, the Atatürk and Ilisu Dam were bombed in simultaneous airstrikes by apparently an Iraqi-backed renegade group within the Syrian forces.

Terrorists?

We’re not sure who is behind it, sir. The Syrian government claims they had nothing to do with it.

Of course not, John replied and wanted to know, Any damage to the dams?

According to the latest intelligence, they say both dams are breached.

Breached? What terminology is that? Security can be breached, but if a dam is breached it means it’s destroyed. Have these people gone mad? This resembles an act of war! John said, still in shock. It was hard to even comprehend the magnitude of ramifications a new conflict in this region could have. Did the Turks retaliate yet?

Negative, sir. But I guess it will only be a matter of a few hours at max. Just wanted to give you the heads-up, sir. I can imagine there will be an emergency meeting called in this morning.

Thank you, Major. I’ll be over shortly.

I’ve arranged for Specialist Chang to pick you up in about 15 minutes, sir, the major said and hung up.

John had to smile. He had a good idea of how that must have gone over. Major Brewer must have secretly enjoyed chasing his driver out of her slumber this early. Between the two women persisted an inexplicable animosity still. Susan rejected the young woman for the insolence she displayed at times and, in return, Specialist Chang hated the major’s officiousness.

She has a problem respecting authority, Susan had complained just a few days ago. Sir, I hope you don’t mind me asking. But why do you still keep her on the team? As a member of the staff, she is a disgrace. Comes late, disappears again, and her attire is often improper.

Everyone has qualities, John remembered having baffled the major with his answer. No doubt that Specialist Chang seemed somehow prone to get herself into trouble. However, John had his reasons for keeping her on as his driver.

While shaving in the shower, John’s thoughts returned to the first time he had met Chang. She was 25, an only child of Chinese immigrants, who had grown up to become a quick-witted New York City kid. Orphaned by the Great Pandemic six years ago, Chang, as so many low and middle-class kids in their desperation and search for belonging, had followed the promises of security, a prospective career, and having a new family, and so had ended up in the Army instead of on the street.

Susan had been present that day when Chang had been standing in front of his desk, awaiting her fate with a defying indifference someone acquired who had nothing to lose and nothing to fear anymore. Major Brewer had stared at the young woman as if she would have been a venomous snake, John recalled. Right from the beginning, his aide had disagreed with him on requesting personnel to be transferred from detention to fill their ranks among the U.S. contingent of the ITF Europe. General, we can’t be that desperate that we have to scrape the bottom of the barrel, Susan had tried to sway his mind. But they had been indeed that desperate, and they had gotten Chang.

John could not blame the major for her low opinion. Chang’s record said it all, gambling, trafficking of black-market goods, unauthorized use of military equipment. The list of her involvement in illegal activities was endless. Nevertheless, she had her qualities. For example, nobody would dispute that Chang was a hell of a driver, after having eluded the MP several times during a high-speed car chase on the autobahn in Germany, making them look like fools. They only had caught her because she had run out of gas. Besides that, Chang apparently was also a gifted poker player and had invested her winnings in building up a smuggler ring, profiting handsomely from a variety of unlawful businesses until the day she got busted. Yes, Chang could indeed be called a very diverse personality.

But there had been something else that had spoken to John while viewing her files. From childhood on, Chang had to work at the grocery store of her parents, which had told him that she could not have grown up spoiled to stupidity by being left sitting in front of the TV or video games. Then, with 17, Chang had gone to college for two years until the pandemic had hit. During her basic army training, she had shown above average scores, and with her posting to Germany, Chang’s career seemed to have taken a promising path, until she had been charged with aggravated assault that was. Later the charges against her had been dropped again because it was considered self-defense after being sexually harassed by the complainant, as witnesses had testified.

But why, for Christ’s sake, did she have to break that man’s arm, his nose and dislocate his jaw? Major Brewer had asked and had warned him, This woman has discipline and anger management problems, sir.

No, she has courage and a black belt in jiu-jitsu.

General, you can’t be serious and admire someone for such an outburst of violence.

Why not? The guy was a hundred pounds heavier and trained in close combat. Somehow that deserves my respect. I like brave women. Susan, this is exactly what we are looking for here. Women that get a man’s job done.

To see if Chang understood that too, John had asked her straight-out, Do you know why you have been transferred here to France, to the International Task Force?

I guess to be sent to Africa, sir, Chang had answered, making it sound as if it would be a form of severe punishment.

John was quite aware of how the service with the ITF was still perceived by many. It was synonymous with working in refugee camps under horrible conditions, handing out food and water to starving and sick people that were more dead than alive. Furthermore, chances were one caught some nasty bacillus or parasite while being posted over there, a prospect that did not really contribute to the attractiveness of the job. And still, you’ve accepted the offer. Why?

Well, having the choice to be either beaten and raped in a prison camp for the next ten years or going to Africa, it wasn’t that tough of a decision to make, sir.

John had liked that answer. Chang had not tried to pretend or say things he might have wished to hear. It had merely proven her pragmatism and honesty. John had heard rumors about the abuse of detainees before, and he had already suspected that Chang must have spoken from her own experiences, which would have explained the origin of the bruise on her face. That day, John had wondered how many more bruises she had been hiding underneath her uniform or if she had been even raped by guards or other inmates.

Do you know what the ITF’s job is?

From what I’ve heard, sir, it’s a multinational operation to help people in Africa to keep them from overrunning Europe.

Chang had proven that her brains matched the speed of her frank tongue. In a nutshell, that exactly what it is, John had agreed with her and would never forget the astonishment on her face when he had extended his hand to her. It must have been the last thing she had expected that a general would shake her hand and say, Welcome to my team, Specialist Chang, even reinstating her in her former rank. John would also not forget how he had said to her in all honesty, We need everyone who’s willing to help us to make this world a better place.

How pathetic those words sounded now. In the mirror, the reflection of John’s face turned grim. Two destroyed dams, floodwaters killing thousands of innocent people, and no water, no power for many thousands more. War, what madness he thought. It now would undermine every effort they had made so far.

While John got dressed, he peeked out of the window of his small, unassuming apartment in Paris. April had brought mixed weather. The cobblestone pavement was still wet from last night’s rain and the car driving by was splashing water from a puddle onto the sidewalk with a loud swoosh. There she was, right on time, and like always parked the unmarked Renault around the corner, just to prevent raising any suspicion right in front of his house.

John couldn’t quite understand why Susan was still bearing such a grudge towards Specialist Chang, who over the last three months had proven herself reliable and trustworthy. He knew it was in part because he allowed Chang to speak her mind freely and in a casual manner, which Major Brewer considered inappropriate and disrespectful. But what bugged Susan even more, was his leniency with Chang and that he, as a general, shared confidential information with his driver.

Maybe it was time to tell the major to back off and to leave Chang alone, John wondered. But how would he explain it, by saying that Chang was only following his orders? He could not afford to expose his best source for intelligence. No other officer in his team was so well informed about what went on among his troops. If it was a rumor, illegal activities or a saucy affair, John heard of it.

John was ready to leave his apartment. At the door, as it was his habit, John turned around once more. All the lights were off. He had his phone on him, his Security ID, payment card. Something was still missing, though, when John’s eyes fell on the stack of tarot cards on the table. In his hurry, he had almost forgotten them.

As John walked back to grab his cards, curiosity got the better of him, and he wanted to see what his ‘Card of the Day’ was, in particular on a day like this. To make it quick, John just turned around the top card from the stack. The cards seemed to have the tendency to mock him. Today it was not any different. He had picked The Fool, a smirking face, half woman, half man, which resembled the joker in the game, or it was just that, a simple fool. John laughed. Thanks, no need to rub it in, he said before letting the cards disappear in his breast pocket, next to the picture of his family.

A long trench coat concealed his uniform, but nobody paid much attention to the tall man walking up to the car waiting for him. Even though Diana saw him coming, she would not have stepped out of the car to open the door for him. Why should she? The general was very much capable of opening a car door himself and a woman holding the door for a man might just have drawn curious looks.

John sat down on the passenger side and tried to give Chang as much of a smile as he could muster. Good Morning, Diana. They woke us up early today.

Good Morning, boss, Diana greeted him with a charming smile of her own. She enjoyed it tremendously being the only one who called the general ‘boss,’ but only if they were in private. Otherwise, she would have never dared to address him that way. Except for her dead father, no other man ever deserved her respect and loyalty more than the general. From the day on he had shaken her hand, she felt treated like a human being again, and she would never forget that.

Diana started the car and chatted away. You should have heard the major this morning, barking into the phone, ‘Chang get ready, you have to pick up the general in 30 minutes.’ I wonder why she always has to yell at me. I might have lost my reputation, but not my hearing. A glimpse over to the general told her that he was not listening. Everything okay, sir?

No, Diana. Turkey has been attacked this morning, which means NATO will be sucked right into a mess. We are probably at war within the next few hours, and I have not the slightest idea yet how it will affect our plans.

Who attacked them?

Most likely one of the Syrian factions, with help from the Iraqis or Kurds. But that’s not officially confirmed yet, so to no one a word.

Of course not, sir, Diana replied and asked bluntly, Do you fear that we will be sent to Turkey instead?

I don’t think so. But some of the German units might be withdrawn from the ITF. If that happens, it’s all up to the French and us, and we don’t need to hope for any reinforcements. Everything will be going soon to the Middle-East, mark my words.

Do you remember Major Wilke, sir, the liaison officer from the German contingent?

Yes, I do. What about him?

I met him at the embassy that evening when I had to wait for you. We’ve got talking, and he asked me out. Do you want me to give him a call, sir? He seems to be better informed about backstage politics than his boss, Meisner. Maybe he has an idea what’s on their menu soon, MRE’s in the Sahara or shish kebab in Turkey.

John had to smile. Listening to Chang, he sometimes thought he heard his daughter Alice speak, who was the same way, lively, outgoing, and a hell of a smart girl. And why not let Diana enjoy herself a little? It would always be beneficial to maintain a good relationship with other units. And what could be more suggesting itself than a liaison with a liaison officer? All she needed was his permission for an overnight-leave. Okay. See if your major has time this evening. Do you have anything nice to wear?

You mean civilian clothes? Diana chuckled. I might find a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt.

Jeans? I was rather thinking of a dress. If you don’t have anything decent to wear, I may suggest you take the afternoon off and go shopping. I happen to know some fine boutiques here in Paris. I’m pretty sure that you will find something suitable there.

Diana was speechless. The general was full of surprises. There was a crisis looming, but he sent her shopping and even knew where to go. After three months of driving him, this man was still an enigma to her. Thank you, sir, was all she muttered as they approached the gate to ITF headquarters and both had to show their ID’s to the guard.

The guard recognized them, saluted and Diana proceeded slowly to the parking lot in front of a richly adorned mansion. John could see that something was bothering her. You’re usually not shy on words. What is it, Diana? Spit it out.

Diana parked the car at the spot reserved for the general. Well, sir, I wouldn’t know what to buy it from. All my funds have been confiscated, and my pay is still withheld to cover for the damages, she explained her dilemma.

Seeing Diana’s embarrassment, John could spare himself asking why she had not told him earlier. I guess that’s an obstacle, but no insurmountable one, he remarked instead, reached into his jacket pocket and held out his payment card to Diana. Here, there’re enough Euro credits on. I want you to buy yourself all the clothes you need. John could see already how she took a deep breath to reject the offer. Forget it! It’s not up for discussion. That’s an order, Specialist Chang.

An order was an order. Not knowing what to say, Diana took the payment card and let it slide into the breast pocket of her uniform blouse. Their eyes met, and she saw his friendly smile. Why was he so nice to her? He had never tried anything with her before.

You’re wondering why I’m doing this, John said with a look at his watch. He could still spare a few minutes and took out a paper photo from the pocket to show it to Diana. It portrayed a group of six happy-looking young women, all smiles for the camera. Look, this is my family back home in Washington. Here, in the middle, the one with the long brown hair, this is my youngest daughter Erin. You can’t see it so well in the photo, but she’s pregnant. She is expecting a girl and is due next month. Right beside her, the blonde, that’s her older sister Alice. And next to her that’s her partner Ann.

You mean the two are a couple? Diana asked out of curiosity.

John just nodded and pointed at the youngest of all the women. She had long black hair and looked Asian. On her, one could see she was pregnant. That’s my daughter-in-law Jaidee, a wonderful girl. She too is due in a few weeks.

Who is this bald woman? Diana could not help asking. The woman seemed to be the oldest, but Diana could not imagine it being the general’s wife. With flesh tunnels in her earlobes and piercings in her face, she did not look anything like an officer’s wife.

Her name is Aurora, John said and hesitated. I guess here it becomes somewhat difficult to explain who she is. To simply call her a friend of the family would not do her justice. She is much more than that, for all of us.

Diana pointed at the last of the women, the one who wore her strawberry blond hair in a long braid falling over her shoulder. The freckles together with an impish smirk gave her face a sassy expression. And who is this?

This is Claire, my wife.

Diana had thought it might have been another friend of the family or a niece maybe, but not his wife. Wow, she looks so young. How old is she? The question just had spluttered out of her. I’m sorry, sir. Please forget I asked. It’s not my business.

It’s all right, Diana. I consider this a private conversation. My wife is 23, and I’ll save you the guesswork, I’m 25 years older than her, John said and once more looked at his watch. He knew he was already testing Major Brewer’s patience. This, however, was more important right now. See, Diana, these are my folks, and I miss them very much. On the bright side, I’m not alone because of you, Major Brewer, and all the others that are here with me. All of us sit in the same boat, and so we got to be family for each other. Tell me, when was the last time you’ve put on a nice dress, went out and have enjoyed yourself?

It’s been quite a while, sir.

See, and that’s all I want you to do. Go out and have fun, John encouraged her, opened the door and was just about to step out of the car when he saw Major Brewer standing at the window of his office, apparently on the lookout for him already. Oh, before I forget it. I don’t mind if you let your hair grow, as long as you wear it according to regulations. And the same applies to your jacket. Although I want us to be family here, it’s still the Army, and I don’t like to hear any more complaints from Major Brewer about you. Have I made myself clear, Specialist Chang?

Yes, sir! Diana replied and saluted.

John had to smile and returned the salute. See you later.

Diana’s eyes followed the general as he walked up the stairs leading to the entrance until he disappeared behind a blurring veil of tears. She could not have said exactly why she had to cry. After a few minutes, though, she felt better, dried her face, put up her hair and made sure she had buttoned her jacket correctly. Diana checked her appearance in the rearview mirror. Looking herself in the face, she vowed, I will not disappoint you, sir, and her reflection showed a confident smile again. While the day might have started badly for many others in the world, for her, it promised to become by far the best day she had for a very long time.

General Rossar is calling for a meeting of all ITF group commanders, here in the conference room at 10-hundred, sir. It should give us still some time to go over the daily reports, Major Brewer briefed John shortly over breakfast. Both got used to starting the day by having breakfast together, except that the major for some reason seemed to be a little touchy. It may have been because of the tense situation, too little sleep or hormonal imbalances that were known to occur at regular intervals.

Having to deal with an increasing number of women among the troops was somewhat challenging for some commanders, who felt overwhelmed by the complexity of issues they encountered. John, for his part, got along with most of them quite well. Of course, women were changing the dynamic somewhat, but not in a negative way as he found. Besides nail polish, mood swings and bickering, his women had brought in creativity, civility, and eye for detail, including the regular use of tablecloths. And what could have been more of an improvement in army life than having breakfast in the charming company of a woman every morning?

Susan, roughly, what’s our percentage of women? John asked.

Sir?

You heard me. I would like to know how many women we have and how many all the others have.

Huh, let’s see… Well, we have about 800. That’s close to 20% of our overall strength. The Poles have none as far as I know. The French and Germans may have a few among their combat troops, but most of their women will be doctors, nurses or work in logistics. With the Dutch, Belgians, and Austrians it’s the same, maybe a handful. To be honest, I have no clue about the Italians and Spaniards. My best guess is, there are about 900 female soldiers in the ITF altogether, maybe a thousand if you count all the civilian employees. May I ask you, sir, why is it of importance?

I’m just wondering, if we had to go at it alone, just with the French, Spaniards, and Italians, how would our women hold up?

I have complete confidence in the combat abilities of our female troops, sir. They have been trained the same as the men. If I see a problem, then it’s something that’s concerning everyone, the psychological pressure of seeing death and despair first hand on a daily base. Who fails and who prevails under such conditions is probably not a gender question. Although I have to say, and I might be biased here, in a humanitarian situation, if you have to deal with women and children, I believe that our women will outperform most men. You often see women taking a more pragmatic or instinctive approach to problem-solving as well as in the handling of stress. Men like to call it ‘being more emotional.’ Okay, I concede, we may give it a good cry from time to time, but then we go back to work and do what has to be done. We may not be the greatest strategists since we are often conveniently reluctant to think it through all the way, but I guess it’s safe to say that most women are very good at tactical decision-making, sir. As my mom used to say, God has created men and women differently so they can complement each other.

I agree with your mother. It does seem to work for us, doesn’t it? I’m glad to have you, Susan. I think we two make an excellent team.

To hear the general say how much he appreciated their collaboration was most flattering. I think so too, sir, she said and gave him a shy smile.

Susan’s cute response prompted him to ask, Major, I hope you don’t mind my curiosity. But why is it that a woman like you has no boyfriend.

Because with 36 I’ve no time for nonsense anymore. I had a boyfriend until recently, but he dumped me.

He dumped you? Why?

I chose to take on this position, sir, which ranks higher than his. Anyway, he is an idiot.

He must be, John said and shook his head in disbelieve, which earned him another smile.

Both were chewing pensively on their croissants. John wondered when it was the last time he had sat at a table with Claire, together enjoying a meal and a good conversation. Over the previous four months, he had spent more time with Major Brewer than with his wife. He and Susan had become so accustomed to each other by now, had developed habits even, and it sometimes seemed as if they were behaving already like an old couple.

Susan broke the silence first. Have you heard about those Muslim extremists that have torched a church in Lyon, sir? Totally burned down. It’s all over the news this morning.

No, I haven’t. But after that mosque got firebombed last week, I’m not surprised that it’s escalating now. It’s the same all over again. Fear breeds prejudice. Prejudice breeds hate, and hate breeds violence, which again creates just more fear.

But how can this vicious circle ever be broken, sir?

By eliminating the reasons for fear.

And where do you start there, sir?

I don’t know, confessed John dryly and laughed. If someone had a magic bullet, we wouldn’t be here. If our mission is to succeed, though, I guess we will have to solve this riddle for ourselves somehow. I hope you like a good challenge, Major.

Oh yes, sir. And if I may say so, if someone is going to figure it out, I’m sure it will be you, general.

For a second, John was puzzled. He could understand that Susan just wanted to return the compliment, but he was not sure if he really deserved this much confidence. John decided to take Susan’s remark with humor and replied with a smile, Only with a woman like you at my side, Major.

Sir, luckily you have more than 800 of us at your side, Susan remarked, stood up and began to clear the table so they could start their work.

John knew Major Brewer had a weird sense of humor. For a moment, he studied her face to find out if she was serious or just joking. But all she seemed focused on was her job.

Soon after, Major Brewer was armed with pen and note block, ready for battle, while the general wheeled the mightiest of his weapons, the phone. Of course, sir, I’m aware that the entire situation has changed. But with all due respect, we need air support, Admiral, at least for reconnaissance and against the occasional hard target or dug-in position we might encounter, the general replied while Susan listened to him arguing with Washington, yet to no avail. The British were already withdrawing their naval support to send their ships to Turkey and the Persian Gulf. From what Susan understood, the entire Africa mission seemed now threatened.

Drones, sir? Field-operated? Does it mean they come with personnel? 300? Great, I take them. Thank you, sir. I will do my best, Admiral, the general said.

By the time the call was over, the friendly face from earlier had turned into a stony mask, and all charm was replaced by bitterness in his voice when he informed Susan, They take our aircraft carrier. Instead, we now get field-operated drones, including a 3-men-crew for each, plus support personnel.

Wonderful, Major Brewer remarked.

John could not detect any sarcasm in Susan’s voice. Wonderful? The only wonderful thing is that we get additional men.

No, sir, the drones are a godsend.

A godsend. I need something that can send a real message, not just dropping leaflets. These are toys, Major.

Sorry, I have to disagree with you, general. I’ve been trained extensively in urban warfare, and we have used these new drones in many of our tactical exercises. It’s like having your own miniature air force, sir. I don’t know if you have seen them already in action. They come in several variants, and the biggest is just about half the size of the old Predator. It’s true, they can’t deliver a big punch, but they don’t need to, for that we have laser guided missiles that can be shot from anywhere after a surveillance drone has marked the target. The attack model can give you suppressive fire as you’re moving forward, while a solar-powered reconnaissance version high up is your eye in the sky, constantly relaying the situation back to you in real-time and maintaining medium-range audio-video communication in case of a satellite network failure or any other scenario that could lead to disruptions. During the pandemic, we’ve learned a lot of lessons, and the field-operated drone was one of them. Now the pilot is not sitting somewhere in Iowa or Kentucky anymore, completely removed from the reality 10,000 miles away. Instead, he or she is familiar with the conditions on site, and the crews together with their drones are moving with the units that need them.

Despite her lengthy explanation, John was not entirely sold on the idea yet. But this is not urban warfare, Major, he had to remind her.

Susan looked at him in puzzlement. Sir? Where else would you expect to encounter armed resistance if not in some form of an urban environment? Without gasoline or diesel, not even the bad guys can live far away from food and water.

Our convoys will attract them. I expect ambushes.

And our drones are perfect for protecting them from above, sir. They have infrared and night vision. Getting close to the road unnoticed will be hard. And even if they plant an IED, they still have to come for their loot.

What if they send women and children to collect the supplies, are we going to shoot them?

No, sir, we follow them, put their houses under aerial surveillance and gather information before we decide if it’s worthwhile to go after them. Knowing that you’re watched and can be attacked at any time, will be in most cases already deterrent enough.

I guess that this must be another lesson learned during the pandemic, Major. Are these such of those tactics you were taught in urban warfare, how to intimidate or suppress your own population?

During widespread social unrest, a hungry mob acts irrationally and is highly unpredictable. With all due respect, sir, I’ve seen it, you didn’t.

Major Brewer expected to be reproved for her frank talk, but John could see she would stand firmly by what she said. And she was right. She had been at the frontline all those years, while he had been enjoying his peaceful afternoon naps in his hammock. John smiled at her from his side of the desk and replied, Susan, what would I do without you?

In fact, Major Brewer had given him a lot of self-assurance as he went into the meeting with General Rossar and the other group commanders. Eduard Rossar was a top-notch NATO general, who was in his mid-fifties, gray-haired, with a demeanor resembling more that of a smooth politician than of a strict military man. Brussels had not only chosen him because he had it both, diplomacy and military competence, he was also French, and the French were for years heavily involved in North Africa already, helping those nations to cope with the constant stream of refugees from central and East Africa that were seeking to get into Europe.

If we want to stem the stream, we have to go up against the flow all the way to its source, John started out, using the opportunity to present his quickly adjusted plan to the other commanders. Despite the Turkey incident, I’m still strongly committed to keeping the mission together and on time. Gentlemen, even with reduced naval and air support, I’m convinced we can do it.

They all agreed that they had to proceed as planned if they did not want to see the situation boil over. Europe meanwhile had become a fortress in the attempt to control the constant influx of refugees. Millions waited in camps from Morocco to Libya to be allowed in, having to go through a strict selection and quarantine process. Laborers were needed in Europe to replace the workforce that had perished during the pandemic.

The problem was, the simmering fear of foreign infiltration that already existed before, seemed now to turn more and more into xenophobia, especially among the lower class concerned about their jobs. The torching of a church and the increased violence on the streets was just another topic they discussed.

Economically, America was not much better off than Europe. In many ways, it was even worse. The Europeans at least tried to find a consensus among each other since all of them were facing the same outside threat, which could not be said for the politics at home where no one cared about the rest of the world. The United States, although militarily still present globally, was not in a position anymore to take on a leading role internationally. Currently, America lacked any geopolitical strategy that could have offered a solution for the many problems humanity faced.

Consequently, it came as a surprise to John when General Rossar said, Ladies and gentlemen, I’m in favor of going along with General McAllister’s improvised plan. I especially like the idea of using field-operated drones for securing our supply lines. Since the current circumstances force me to go back and forth between Paris and Brussels for the coming weeks, I suggest putting McAllister in charge of the operations for the time being.

To John’s astonishment, everybody around the table showed their agreement by either applauding or knocking on the table. Apparently, Americans still had some credit left. John felt honored that they were willing to entrust their troops to him, which meant he would be responsible for more than 12,000 men and women from now on.

Congratulation, sir, whispered Major Brewer next to him and made not even the attempt to hide her triumphant grin.

The meeting dragged on into the afternoon. Many of the officers used short breaks for returning calls, and so did Major Wilke, who accompanied his boss, Brigadegeneral Meisner. John was just talking with Meisner when he overheard Wilke say, Oh I would be delighted. Shall we go out for dinner? It might take a little longer today. How about I pick you up at seven. Great. See you later.

Wilke looked pleased. When he joined their conversation again, nothing would have indicated that he had just arranged for a date with an exciting young woman who happened to be the mission commander’s driver. John pretended to have no clue and asked him instead to tell him more about the German drones they might be able to deploy as well.

Essentially there had been no need for any spying on his German colleagues. Wilke and his boss were open and honest. Our relation with Turkey is presently not the best, admitted Meisner. Nevertheless, Germany will provide humanitarian aid of course. But, under no circumstances, the Brigadegeneral assured John, Will Berlin consider withdrawing units from the ITF. The African problem is simply too persistent.

John was relieved to hear that. He badly needed Meisner’s 2,200 airborne and special ops forces, plus 500 of the medical and logistic