A Time for Patriots

Patrick ignored him. “Charlie’s right: we need a better approach to this Knights of the True Republic extremist situation than what the FBI has been pursuing,” he said. “We’re still going to find and track them, but we don’t have the authority to arrest or kill them, and there doesn’t seem to be any local law enforcement willing or able to help. And we have to organize our group to start going over all the sensor images we’ve collected so far. I suggest we get some rest, then meet tomorrow morning to discuss a plan of action.”

As they all turned to depart, Patrick said to Richter: “One moment, Colonel.” Jason went back, looking directly at Patrick, his hands behind his back in an attitude that was both respectful and dismissive. “Have I done something to tick you off, Colonel?” Patrick asked.

“With all due respect, sir: I object to the way you take things and personnel and act as you please, as if you answer to no other authority but your own,” Jason said as matter-of-factly as if he were describing a sunny day. “Dr. Masters’s sensors and computers; the CID and Tin Man; Charlie Turlock and Macomber; and all of those Civil Air Patrol people — you treat them as if they’ve been assigned to you, and you have an unlimited budget to direct them to do anything you wish. And you literally tortured and terrorized those federal agents with the CID and Tin Man, not to mention threatening their lives. I’m just trying to decide if I have a responsibility and duty to report you to someone so a proper authority can evaluate your actions — and stop you.”

Patrick thought for a moment, matching Jason’s direct glare; then: “Tell me, Colonel: Where do you live?”

“I’m currently assigned to the Army Infantry Transformational BattleLab at—”

“No, I mean, where’s your hometown?”

Richter blinked at the question. “I’m from western Pennsylvania, General.”

“Still no mention of a hometown,” Patrick observed. “I think that’s the key to why you don’t understand what I’m trying to do, Colonel: you don’t seem to have a hometown.”

“I’m in the U.S. Army, General,” Jason said. “I travel two hundred days a year to bases and laboratories all over the world; I visit a half-dozen defense contractors and engineering firms a month; and the rest of the time I’m working in my lab a minimum of twelve hours a day.”

“How about your folks?”

“They live near Wilmington, North Carolina, surrounded by kids and grandkids,” Jason said. “I’ve never been there.”

“Interesting. So you don’t really have a home, do you?” Jason didn’t respond. “But if Fort Polk was attacked by extremists, you’d certainly defend it, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, sir. That’s obvious. What’s your point?”

“And if there were no military police when the attack began, you’d certainly pick up a gun and do your best to fight off the attackers, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’d even climb aboard a Cybernetic Infantry Device and use it to defend the base, correct? Maybe even put on a weapon backpack if you felt you needed it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Even if the Army didn’t order you to do anything?” Patrick asked. “Even if the military police were already responding?”

Jason thought for a moment; then: “If the CID could get the job done and prevent loss of life and property… yes, sir, I would. It would be crazy to have a weapon system like that and not use it in a crisis.”

“But the CID doesn’t belong to you,” Patrick pointed out. “You have access to it, but you don’t own it.” Again, Jason said nothing. “So what’s the difference between you and me, Colonel? Battle Mountain is my home. I live on this base, and my son goes to school in town, and my friends and Civil Air Patrol squadron mates live all throughout this area. I’d certainly do all I could to defend my home, same as you — even convince my neighbors to join me to do whatever we could to stop the bad guys.”

Jason still had not responded, so Patrick took a step toward him. “So get your head out of your ass and get with the program, Colonel,” he snapped. “The situation here is real, and it’s serious. It’s not someone else’s problem — it’s our problem.

“Now, if you want, you can call anyone you feel you need to call, and I’ll respond in the same way,” Patrick went on. “You can take the CID and leave, and I’ll find a way to get the job done without it. But if it’s here, I’m going to use it, because I can . And I’m not going to let you or anyone else short of the president of the United States stop me, and I might even argue with him over it. Is that clear?”

Jason stared back at Patrick, matching his determined glare — but after a few moments, he nodded. “Yes, General, it’s clear.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you meet with us in my office in the morning and suggest ways we can best utilize the CID. If you don’t care to do that, then load up the CID and get the hell out of my face so I can do the job.”

Joint Air Base Battle Mountain

Several days later, early morning