September 7th, 2262. 06:55 Washington D.C. Safe House, Hillwood Estates Detached Garage

John was exhausted from the night’s events. He was napping, to the annoyance of the Marine guards, on a chair at the end of the garage. Naval Intelligence’s eagerness to acquire the man they had captured was greatly reduced when the call came in from John.

As a result, they were slow rolling the prisoner pick-up. As he had nothing better to do and needed to be there to rub his nose in things he stayed outside. Nearly three hours after the call was made a pair of black BMW sport utility vehicles showed up at the gate. The Marines stationed at that post cleared them and open the gate for them.

John woke up and saw the vehicles drive towards them after rubbing his eyes. He stood up and stretched as he walked over to the Marines. He yawned before talking.

“Morning, sorry about that,” John said with little to no sincerity, “Why don’t one of you open the garage door and have the guys inside wake up sleeping beauty.”

“Yes sir!” one of the marines grinned as he walked inside.

John walked over to the vehicles and grinned, “Agent Johnson, how ya been?”

Special Agent Garret Johnson sighed as he got out of his vehicle, “Going to rub our faces in it?”

“Yeah, I thought about really hamming it up, but I know you weren’t part of that bullshit that went down.”

Garret grunted, “What makes you think that?”

John grinned, “You don’t have the balls to try and kill me.”

“Bad risk-reward for sure,” Garrett shrugged, “So just to be clear, you do have Erick Walken in custody?”

John nodded, “He got a little roughed up, but we did verify his identity.”

Garret waived the other agents by him. They walked quickly into the garage to verify things. The shouts and yelling added additional confirmation to the matter.

“Good work,” Garret said as he walked closer to John, “I don’t care if you are cleared for this or not, but there were two other attacks.”

“I’m aware of that, but the teams didn’t coordinate with one another. According to dickbutt in there they each had standing orders to attack their targets this morning.”

“Senator Fitzpatrick’s home was hit. His wife, two maids, and a butler were killed in the attack. That team disappeared like a fart in the wind.”

John scrunched his face, “Why?”

“Because most of the forces had responded to the other attack. There was an attack on the Secretary of the Navy’s home. Her husband, retired Admiral Aleksy Nowak was murdered. Both of their children and fellow naval officers were injured but will make it. The secretary herself is in surgery, it was touch and go but it seems like she’ll survive.”

John shook his head, “Any other collateral losses?”

“A neighbor’s dog and unfortunately another neighbor’s five-year-old girl was hit by a through and through.”

“Fuck.”

“That team was taken out. We were decrypting their data when you sent yours over. It confirmed what you said.”

“I’m not wrong often,” John smirked as Erick was dragged by, “Have fun mate!”

“Fucker, we had a deal.”

John nodded, “We sure did, except I pulled out of it when you no longer had anything to offer. One of the other teams killed a kid. You are very lucky they are here. Otherwise, you’d be blood spatter in that garage.”

The Marines laughed at John’s comment as they followed behind the agents. The other Naval Intelligence agents got their target into one of the waiting SUVs and locked him into place so he couldn’t get frisky in the vehicle when they left towards wherever their destination was.

“Consider this prisoner transfer complete. Have fun with the asshole,” John slapped Garret’s shoulder as he walked by but paused when he was a few steps away, “Hey, what do you know about the Sunset Initiative?”

“It’s a group of well-connected political figures. Their elected members tend to vote in a bloc irrespective of their individual parties. The power behind the group lies in affluent families. Why?”

“That’s who hired them,” John said walking back to Garret.

“Look, your agency may not like me, but I can do things…”

Garret shook his head, “Look I don’t want to know the kinds of things you can or would do. Give me a minute and I’ll forward what I have over to you. If you don’t tell me what you planning then I don’t need to lie about it to my boss.”

“Much appreciated, you may want to play dumb when things pop up in the newspaper,” John grinned.

“Not like we’ll find any evidence of you being there anyways,” Garret laughed at himself as he was working on his tablet, “There, everything I have access to on them is yours. You didn’t get this from me.”

“Adios, have fun interrogating him.”

Garret turned to face John once more, “Hey, just for the record. Most of the rank and file don’t understand the switch.”

John shrugged, “It is what it is. The rank-and-file ought to know what happens if their fangs are borne at me for no good reason though. Thanks, and have a good one.”

John waved and continued to walk toward the house. It was time to get cleaned up and have breakfast. Then he’d figure out what kind of monkey wrench was thrown at the hearing process.

09:45 Washington D.C. Safe House, Living Room

John had a laptop on his lap that he was intently focused on. Captains Brook Walker and Julia Ekre were in the room and were talking. There was a conversation John was supposed to be a party to but he was entirely focused on going through the intel on this political group. Alice giggled when the other women in the room were getting frustrated with John.

“Hey, asshole. There are other people in the room,” Alice said as she snapped her fingers.

“Good god woman,” John said, “Snapping fingers is rude as hell.”

Alice gave him the death look. John had found himself on the wrong side of that look more times than he’d care to count. This time though he wasn’t at all repentant over it.

“They asked you a question you bloody idiot,” Alice smiled as she shook her head, “You’ll have to forgive my husband. He has a one-track mind. It’s a failing of his gender.”

“Huh?” John looked up at the captains.

Julia just rolled her eyes, “We were wondering what your thoughts about Senator Fitzpatrick saying the hearings would go on tomorrow.”

“He’s been in a loveless marriage for twenty years. She hates his cheating guts but loves the power and prestige he affords her. She knew that at approaching her eighties that she isn’t exactly a hot item in the dating pool.”

“But the attack…” Brook said.

“Was meant to interrupt the hearings. Fitzpatrick won’t let that happen,” John leaned back in his chair, “He already knows his biggest enemy orchestrated the attack. His group is likely plotting to attack similarly.”

“Wonderful. We’re here to finish an inquiry into the attack and try to get things back to normal and now we’re parties to a political war,” Julia said.

“Shots have been fired,” John said as he looked down at his laptop, “I wonder…”

Alice grinned at that last comment. She knew John was already thinking about his next move in four-dimensional chess. What that was she didn’t know, but that look on his face was all too familiar to her. A scheme of some sort was formulating in her husband's great brain.

“Wonder what?” Julia asked.

“Captain Walker, what do you think Fitzpatrick’s end game is here?”

“Smear, if not destroy, Shephard’s name. Kill the son’s reputation, if he has any left. And make the Navy look foolish for allowing everything to happen.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

John nodded, “Well the last point has already been prevented because wings and squadrons were broken up to ensure a cult of persona doesn’t crop up again. Additionally, the fleet command has said reviews of this will happen monthly or quarterly so that a similar scenario won’t happen again.”

“But he can still make us look ridiculous for allowing things to get this far in the first place,” Brook insisted.

“True, but the fleets have undergone massive changes in the last three years. The old mindset, while still very present, is changing. They had to evolve, especially because of the conflict with the Alliance.”

“Ok, so it’s a headline that is relatively meaningless because we’ve already done the changes that will come down from upon high. What are you getting at?”

“If we appear to ally with his side, what would he do?”

“He’d be distrustful of us,” Julia spoke up, “We’ve fought, and frankly lost, against his objectives since day one. Changing now would look…”

“Opportunistic,” John smiled as he transferred some information to the captains, “Hear me out. We’re not actually going to go through with this. But we need to file with the Senate our testimonial plans ahead of time.”

“These are false plans though,” Brook said, “That’s not going to endear us to any Senator, even the ones sympathetic or in agreement with our side.”

“Take a closer look at the wording,” John grinned, “It’s vague but it hints towards siding with the Senator’s position. But doesn’t outright say it is? It’s also using language the Senator is known to frequent when he knows his position but isn’t willing to outright say it.”

“We can file it, and then change the filing based on new evidence or review and refile appropriately,” Brook said.

“You can’t be serious Brook,” Julia looked shocked.

“Correct me if I’m wrong John, but you’re trying to keep the Senator off-balance.”

“Yes, because when I meet with him, I need him both wanting the assistance I can provide and not fully trusting me. I need him to be cautiously curious.”

“You cannot do that,” Alice said, “You can’t go on a rampage. You aren’t protected.”

“I never said I was going on a murder spree; I can help him destroy this Sunset Initiative group. Doing that will make him happy,” John smiled, “Reasonably confident I can do that without breaking any serious laws.”

“You know there are two attorneys in the room, right?” Brook shook her head.

“No recordings and I’m sure your recollection of events isn’t clear,” John said calmly, “Besides, I haven’t planned anything illegal. I just really need to have a one-on-one chat with Fitzpatrick somehow.”

“Drop that line of thinking. It won’t happen,” Brook said as she got up, “I’m going to inform the admirals of what happened overnight. I’m willing to run with this plan of yours Lieutenant.”

“Hey, do you know where Admiral Shephard frequents? I may need to chat with him too.”

“I do,” Julia said, “And speak of the devil. Wow, he submitted his official review of Kory’s original battleplan and submitted an alternate attack strategy.”

John pulled up the battle analysis. In it, the Admiral was critical of some, but not all, the assumptions Kory had put in place. He seemed to gloss over whether or not they had sufficient ships to support such an attack. It was almost as if the analysis summarized that the attack was a failure without actually saying the attack was a failure.

The battle plan, which was admittedly made in hindsight and with perfect clarity for all known factors, was unique. It seemed a bit too hopeful and perfectly laid out for John. But it was the first fresh and unique take on a battle the senior Shephard had made in years.

John stood up, “Fuck, that’s it. That’s my in.”

15:47 Whistlin’ Dixie Bourbon Bar

John walked into the bar wearing casual clothing. Possibly too casual for this place. Despite the hoakie name, the bar was one of the more upscale joints in the metropolitan area. Every known top-shelf drink could be had here, provided you had the credits.

If you wanted a drink in private, they also had rooms to accommodate those customers. Admiral Shephard had turned to the bottle to help him cope with the loss of his only son and namesake. He seemed to be fighting a losing battle trying to keep both his and his son’s name from being tarnished.

As the days wore on it became more and more likely that he’d be forced to choose. That was an impossible choice for a father to make. As that awful choice loomed over him whisky became a way to comfort him.

John was here to have a conversation with the Admiral. Part of him wanted to rub all of Kory’s failure in his face. It would feel good to do that, but it may be counterproductive. Even John didn’t know for sure what he wanted to do.

Though he had to get the bartender or an employee of this wonderful establishment to allow him in the chosen room of the Admiral. ‘Baby steps’ John thought as he walked up to the bar. His eyes spied several bottles of George T. Stagg Straight Bourbon. The oldest, and not surprisingly the most expensive, was a thirty-three-year-old expression of the whisky.

“Good afternoon. I’ll take a triple of that,” John pointed at the old and expensive bottle of bourbon.

“Neat or on ice?”

“Neat please, though I may ask for a glass of water after I have a sip.”

“That’ll be four-thousand credits. You're new here so I hope you aren’t offended that I ask for payment first,” the bartender said honestly and sincerely.

“Not at all. I’d hate to think someone would force you to waste such a fine whisky, “John said as he handed the man a credit chit, “Keep a thousand for yourself too.”

The bartender nervously smiled as he took the credit chit. He plugged it into his terminal and keyed in the amount, including the very generous tip. The nervousness went away when the chit transferred the credits to the bar’s accounts.

Moments later the bartender presented John with a bourbon glass with a bit more than three shots worth in it. John smiled and sniffed the whisky. It was extremely sweet smelling, but there was heat to it as well because of the cask-strength alcohol content. He took a small sip and let the alcohol flow around in his mouth. John smiled as he swallowed the amber liquid.

“Man, that is good. I need like half a spoonful of water to open the spirit up I think.”

The bartender nodded and smiled, “You know your thing.”

“Well, the Navy may be my chosen profession but enjoying fine spirits like this is a bit of a hobby of mine.”

The bartender smiled, dipped a spoon in a glass of water, and gently dropped about three drops of water into John’s glass. John then swirled it around before sniffing and tasting the spirit. It got better.

“Oh man, that is an experience. I need to talk to my father-in-law about getting some of this. Holy hell it’s good.”

“It seems the only way to get this is if you have connections. The ten- and fifteen-year-old expressions are very common,” the bartender paused and then looked at John again, “But you’re not here for the drinks are you?”

“Very observant, though I’d be lying to you if I didn’t literally just add that to my objective here. So, part of my mission is successful. I need to speak to Admiral Shephard. I know he’s here but I’m not sure which room he’s in.”

“Look, you can’t…”

John slid the credit chit back, “Take a look at that.”

The bartender picked it up discretely and brought it under the bar’s countertop and clicked on the button to see the amount. His eyes flashed for a moment before he dropped it on the ledge beneath his hands. Two hundred fifteen thousand credits were on that chit.

John leaned over and whispered, “It’s cleaned and untraceable. And it’s yours. I promise I am only here to chat. Shephard will remain physically unharmed.”

The bartender looked conflicted.

“My name is John Lief, Third Lieutenant of the CNS Des Moines. He and I have an odd relationship and need a private conversation,” John said before taking another drink.

“Room three. Here’s the code,” the bartender pocketed the credit chit and handed John a napkin with the access code to the room.

John looked at the napkin, nodded at the bartender, and got up. He sauntered through the curtain to the private room. He found the room and entered the code. The door opened which surprised the Admiral. Though that surprise changed to anger in but a single heartbeat.

John sat down across the table from him, “Good afternoon, Admiral. You have my sympathies for your loss. I would recommend finding another outlet than drink to get you over this loss, sir. It is rather destructive.”

Admiral Shephard slammed his fist onto the table. John saw it coming and grabbed his glass. He shook his head at the admiral for his outburst.

“Can’t be wasting this. They bottled gold I tell you.”

Admiral Shephard tried to fix his hair with one hand, “What makes you think I want to talk to you at all? My son is dead because of you. And then you dishonored him by looking at his most private writings.”

“Project much, sir?” John spat back with equal attitude as was directed at him, “Your son got his stupid ass killed. You were like me, an outside that managed to open the door and walk into the old club. I haven’t done the latter as I am very much on the outside but I’m making inroads. Your son though, his arrogance exceeded yours by a large sum.”

“If only…” the Admiral was interrupted.

“He hadn’t fucking attacked. Not one of your god damned models have predicted success, have they? Even with hindsight. Right?”

The Admiral looked at the table and shook his head, “My boy is dead…”

“BECAUSE OF HIS FUCKING ARROGANCE,” John shouted, “You raised him. He saw the worst traits of yours and took them for his own. He thought he was God’s gift to mankind. Then you completely shit the bed in the attacks and lose your command. He did this to make you relevant again. How’s that for irony? Your son was trying to make you relevant yourself.”

The Admiral looked up and rage was on his face. His hands were clenched into tight fists. Blood vessels were pulsing in his forehead.

“Spare me the anger. You are not responsible for your son’s death. No, it’s worse for you, isn’t it?” John said as he slid a data slate across the table, “Thirty years ago Sunset Initiative told you to cool it the fuck out with your tactics. They, grudgingly, by the way, accepted you into the elite. But it came at a cost, didn’t it?”

Shephard’s anger was gone but replaced my disappointment, “I overshadowed their chosen tacticians. I could run circles around them. I saw things they couldn’t possibly imagine occurring. They told me that they’d make my life difficult if I didn’t cooperate.”

“Then you embarrassed both in the wargames the Navy put on a month later. So much so that one of the two retired and the other was drummed out of command for his inability to properly lead his ship in mock combat.”

“He died a month later in an ill-informed attack against a pirate armada,” Shephard sighed and took a drink as he leaned back in his seat, “There were no other tacticians of my caliber in the Navy. I was accepted by default. I fought against them for a while, but they were making things so difficult that I just…”

“Accepted defeat with a whimper. But then you got fat and rich on your published work so it didn’t matter anymore. Then you developed a superiority complex, didn’t you? How’d that work out for you?”

“I lost my son you monster!”

John finished his drink and stood up, “Imagine a world where you fought the good fight. You’d be richer than you are now. The Navy would have more tactics than it would know what to do with. Not even those goons could have held back your promotions. And most importantly your idiot son wouldn’t have turned into a meat popsicle.”

“You’re going to find out quickly, if you haven’t already, that our testimony may imply a change in tone. I’m here as a courtesy to let you know the Navy, including myself, is not yet prepared to throw you under the bus. There seem to be bigger fish to fry now.”

John walked over to the door and paused. He looked back at the Admiral. He didn’t feel anger for the man, what he felt was an overwhelming pity. He pitied the man that threw away everything for money and glory.

“I don’t care what happens to you. I honestly don’t. But if you and yours come after me for speaking the truth, I will destroy you without remorse or a second thought. Oddly enough, I don’t want to do that to you, sir. I’ll leave you to your drink, but maybe you should take an honest look at what we were facing again and see what that mind of yours could have come up with.”

John shook his head as he walked out of the bar. That excellent bourbon was soured by the emotions he was feeling. He swore to himself that were he ever to be a father, he had to teach his children proper respect and nurture them appropriately. He didn’t want to be in the same position the Admiral was in now, for no parent should ever outlive their children.