Dawn of Tears - 26. Danger Before Arrival

Note to Readers: Navigating the ancient hatreds, the blood-feuds, and the politics of the Middle East has never been easy, and I was a fool to think I might have had it easier. It didn't take long for me to see that the dangers and risk were very real, and in many ways greater than any other American delegation had faced in many years. Still, I was optimistic right up until we touched down for the first time.

"No." I replied. "I hate talking to them."

"But Dylan, they are your guests right now." Martha protested. "It's customary on something like this to at least check in and say 'Hi'. You don't often take reporters with you anymore. It might not do any good with the CCN reporter, but Genevieve was there in Idaho and the print reporters have been very supportive of your father's presidency. Plus, you know what your father wants before they file their first reports."

"Okay." I sighed. "At least you're not bringing them up here. When do you want to do this?"

"After we're done refueling." Martha said with a sigh. We'd been in the air a little over twelve hours now. I'd gone to bed about an hour after dinner, but it was Darby's night and we hadn't slept much. Martha woke me up when we crossed the 'dawn' line into morning about four hours after I'd gone to sleep.

There was a problem with Egypt denying us use of their airspace because of a continued debate over reparations for the hundreds of fighter craft they'd lost over Israel with our help. Now, the State Department was concerned that Egypt might harass our plane as we passed near their space. I didn't think it likely to happen at all. Why would Egypt risk war with the U.S. by attacking my plane?

Negotiations were underway with the Jordanian King, an old friend of the U.S. before the Crisis. The plan was to fly across Jordanian airspace and into Iraq (which was now part of the new United Islamic Council). They didn't have an air force, most of their anti-aircraft weapons were long since destroyed, but there was concern over the possible capture of American anti-aircraft weaponry from the days after the Crisis. A J-Star aircraft had picked up what it thought were American-made radar signals from central Iraq a few days ago. While the Iranians still had one or two operational American SAM batteries sold to them before the Shah fell in 1979, these signals were from newer systems.

Another option was to go up over Turkey and then back down into Iraq, or an even longer route over Russia and down through some of the lower satellite countries to their south. That was not without risks though, because several of those countries had large Muslim populations and recent intelligence pointed that they were considering joining the UIC. This was especially worrisome because our intelligence agencies warned they had acquired old soviet-made nuclear warheads and still had the means to deliver them. Whether they had the technology to deliver them accurately was an issue no one knew and Russia was in intense negotiations to keep them out of the UIC or to get those weapons back.

Those reasons were why Martha wanted me to go welcome the journalists on board and give them a brief run-down of what was going on and where we were heading. I wouldn't give them a full accounting of all these considerations, but they did need to know why we'd be stopping in Israel for a day or two. The age of instant news was back, and landing in Israel was sure to be picked up as soon as we were down, and we couldn't keep them from broadcasting once we were on the ground. They couldn't use their satellite link-up backpacks on the plane, or if they did we'd know instantly since it might screw up our own systems, but once we were on the ground, there was no way short of force to stop them.

Refueling seven planes, one of them a huge passenger plane, took time, and it was two hours of circling in the air before everything was done. We were first to refuel since we had the largest tanks, and we topped off again after the last fighter had been fueled. The pilot announced that we were free to move around again and that we would be landing in about four more hours. He didn't say where, though, and it was Martha who had asked him to wait on that.

Martha headed back into the Guest cabin to talk to them briefly and to tell them I'd be coming back for a visit. Paul was grumbling about me going back there but already was telling Hollings to get his dark Service suit on and escort me back there. There was a door to the rear cabin on each side of the plane and I'd go in through one while he entered in the other. I really didn't think it was necessary, but after Utah I didn't argue with him on security issues too much. She came back a few minutes later and told me it was my turn, and that they were cranky. I was dressed fairly casually (although a little more than two years ago I would have thought I'd been dressed up) wearing a nice pair of jeans, a dark green collared shirt, and loafers.

"Good morning, or afternoon, or whatever it is." I said in a friendly voice as I entered the Guest cabin. Here, the plane more closely resembled an airliner than anywhere else, but they still had spacious seating that no airline would give, and plenty of cargo room. When I'd entered, there'd been a buzz of conversation that had stopped as soon as the door opened. I'd met most of these people before, and so there was no need for introductions. "I imagine that you all must be interested in where we're headed."

"You might say that." Daro Fo, the CCN reporter said in a slightly scornful voice. I noticed he was trying to casually turn on a small recorder in the edge of his seat and I smiled at him without looking directly at the recorder.

"Well, I thought I'd come back here myself and let you know instead of having the pilot tell you over the speaker like this was an airliner." I said with a smile.

"I don't think an airliner would be this comfortable." He said, and I knew he was looking for a good quote to use against me. I was coming to love these word games with people from CCN.

"Maybe it's how an airliner should be." I stated clearly. "We pretty much have to live on these things on trips like this and being in such cramped quarters can be trying on even the best tempered people. Still, I'm here to let you know what's going on, not talk about airline décor. Egypt has refused to grant us the use of their airspace, so we're working on some auxiliary plans. For now, we're heading to Tel Aviv where we'll stay for a day, maybe two while the State Department works things out."

"Wouldn't staying in Israel before going to the UIC only make them more upset?" Genevieve asked immediately.
I smiled at her and said, "I was worried about that aspect of this as well, but Tel Aviv is the closest airport that is secure to our final destination."

"What is our final destination?" Fo asked as if not expecting an answer.

"Last time we heard, the Ayatollah was in Tehran, but if he's moved our final destination will change as well." I answered him with a calm smile.

"Why are you meeting with the Ayatollah and not the political leaders of the UIC?" Fo pressed on, trying to find a question I wouldn't answer.

"The Ayatollah, despite his assertions to the contrary, is behind these riots." I told them and saw several eyebrows go up, and writing pads come out suddenly. I wondered if Fo realized he was giving away his tape recorder by not taking out a pad. "We intercepted communications between two of the political leaders discussing the riots and concerns about America's reactions. They wanted the riots toned down, but the Ayatollah refused, according to these men. This was the final proof we needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that these riots are not 'spontaneous' demonstrations as has been asserted, but rather planned, coordinated attempts to disrupt the world's supply of oil."

"How will the U.S. respond to this?" Fo asked eagerly, leaning forward slightly.

"This is our initial response." I informed him, looking at him directly. "We are trying to talk to him, and after our findings that he is controlling these riots, I must wonder if Egypt, a member of the UIC, is really adverse to our use of airspace or if the Ayatollah is stalling for time. If the Ayatollah doesn't want to meet with us, then he'll have to face the military intervention of not just the U.S., but of the world as a whole. We learned this lesson the first time someone disrupted oil in the Middle East. We are less dependent on oil today than we were then, but we still need this vital resource. If the Ayatollah thinks the world will be held hostage this way, he has a big lesson coming. There are some ideas I wish to share with him on a peaceful resolution that is amicable to both sides, but if he'd come to us first and asked to talk instead of trying blackmail and extortion this way, the terms would have been better."

"What are the terms?" Fo pushed on, finally finding something I wouldn't tell him.

"Really, Mr. Fo, what would be the purpose of traveling all this way if it was as easy as telling you?" I asked him and he squinted at me harshly. "Do you wish to negotiate on his behalf?"

"I'm just asking what the people need to know." He stated angrily.

"Need to know, or what you want to know, sir?" I asked him. "There's nothing wrong with curiosity, there's nothing wrong with wanting to know something before everyone else, and be the one to tell everyone else. However, if we could resolve it so easily we would have done so. Two years ago we were approaching this situation and it was handled with a phone call. I was there when that call was made and it was resolved very quickly. This time the situation is different and it needs to be handled differently."

"Is it true the President threatened to nuke them and invade them two years ago?" Marquez Garcia, a handsome Hispanic print reporter asked.

"I have no idea what the President two years ago might have done." I said with a smile, and was taking a breath to continue when Fo broke in.

"You just said you were there when he talked to the Ayatollah!" Fo nearly shouted with a look of triumph on his face.

"Excuse me, Mr. Fo." My voice was gentle and polite. "I was making a joke at Mr. Garcia's expense. I think he meant 'nearly' two years ago, not literally two years ago. Sometimes my sense of humor is a little odd. Exactly two years ago, James Jacobs wasn't the President so I have no idea what he said. Nearly two years ago, actually around four months shy of two years ago, I was in the room talking with the President, my brother, and two other officials. We did indeed discuss the use of nuclear weapons. The United States was hard pressed at the time, if you remember, and the Ayatollah was stopping the flow of oil which not only us, but the entire world, needed to recover from those horrible days. The Ayatollah was told that he'd be given fair credit for all oil provided before the currency standards were set, and after that the market would set the price. He wanted something else."

"What did he want?" Genevieve asked in a gentle voice and I broadened my smile for her. Always trust her to ask the good questions.

"He wanted a lot of gold." I told her. "While people were freezing to death, starving, and huddled in dark, unlit buildings, he was wanting America's gold reserves or he'd shut off the oil. Dad, excuse me, the President told him that he'd be paid fairly in currency when that was set, and he still declined, demanding gold as payment. He was told that gold wasn't an option and that if he refused to help the world, the world would help itself. Because the U.S. needed the manpower at home, and because the world's countries could only spare enough troops to hold the oil drilling and transportation facilities, the use of nuclear weapons had been approved by all the signers of the Reykjavik Accord. We didn't want to do such a desperate act, but the alternative was to let our own people die, and that was not acceptable."

"So he did threaten to use nuclear weapons!" Fo's voice was filled with excitement and he went so far as to check his recorder to make sure it was working.

"I'm sure your recorder is working fine." I kept my voice pleasant. "I saw it working when you turned it on. Now, are there any questions for what was supposed to be a pleasant conversation where I politely informed you what was happening and after you promised my Chief of Staff that this was off the record?"

"There is no such thing as off the record when we find out that your daddy threatened to annihilate innocent people." Fo stated firmly.

"Is that really all the story that you see?" I asked him slowly. "Tell me what you would have done in his place."

"I don't have to try to come up with fixes to a problem, that's your dad's job!" Fo stated angrily. "My job is to point out that he was wrong and wanted to murder millions of people."

"It's nice to know you know the limitations of your abilities." I told him with a wicked smile. "What I might want to make sure you don't do, is misrepresent what I told you, something you just did with that statement. The President didn't want to kill millions of people. Dad hates violence and death. I remember the looks on his face every time his people didn't come back from patrol at the beginning of the Crisis. I've seen his face every time he learns that more people have died or been injured as a result of his orders, but he doesn't let that stop him from doing what needs to be done to keep the people of the United States free and alive. When this event occurred, we needed oil to recover or more Americans would die, and maybe even our very nation itself would have descended into chaos. We were on the brink of that already, and this man threatened to cut off the resources we, and the world, needed to recuperate. We did not have the military resources to invade and hold these areas. The only other option at that time was the use of nuclear options. There are many more tools in our box this time. We are a nation that is farther along the path of recovery than we were then, and we have far more room, and items, to negotiate with. We are going to negotiate, if he will listen and work with us, I'm confident a solution can be reached. Right now, though, the ball is in his court and it is his choice."

"That doesn't change the fact that he threatened to unleash nuclear weapons on innocent women and children!" Fo was angry now, but I stayed calm.

"Nor does it change the fact that the Ayatollah was trying to use the lives of American men, women, and children as hostages for gold." I said in that calm voice. "The President has stated time and again, that the lives of our citizens must and will always come first in our dealing with other nations. If the American people do not want someone who will use every tool, every weapon, at the disposal of our nation to keep them safe and free, they can elect someone else. If he was as bloodthirsty as you insist, I wouldn't be here; he'd just be launching a nuclear warhead right now. But he isn't, and I'm here, and there are a lot of things for me to talk about with the Ayatollah before military force, much less nuclear weapons are put on the table. America's leaders have been thinking long and hard about this region of the world, and we have a few ideas we'd like to run by the Ayatollah. Unfortunately, he's refused offers from the State Department to discuss them, and refused to talk to us. Instead, he's been fomenting civil disturbances that threaten the world's recovery from the recent Crisis. There will not be a second Great Oil Crisis if we can help it, and we can. The best, easiest, and most profitable way for everyone to resolve this potential problem is with talk and reaching a consensus. If military force is necessary, however, it will be used."

"So you say the threat of nuclear weapons will be used again?" Fo pushed more and now I was surprised. It seems he had the one-track mind from hell.

"Who did you lose that day in November?" I asked him quietly and in a voice filled with sympathy. He looked at me in shock, and then anger.

"I suppose your handlers told you about my wife and son!" He said angrily and I shook my head.

"No, no one mentioned it to me before now, and I'd like to say that I am very, very sorry for your loss." The compassion in my voice was real, and I realized I had a chance here to maybe reach out and change some of his thinking, without using my ability. "Frankly, I don't ask about the backgrounds of reporters, mainly because I think that reporters are professionals who deserve professional respect from me. I take reporters at face value, and base my opinions of you on my interactions with you. I did not know of your loss, and I really regret that anyone had to lose loved ones to that horrible day."

"Of course you say that now." He said angrily. "That doesn't change the fact that you were just talking about flinging the things around like candy."

"Please, listen to what I'm saying." I said in a passionate, but soft voice. "Saying that we would even consider flinging nuclear weapons around like it was nothing is insulting. None of us would even consider the use of nuclear weapons again. Would you like to know why we are so prepared for this crisis that we acted immediately?"

"I'd like to hear that." Genevieve said seriously.

"Later on the day of that phone call, dad told his advisors that he never wanted to have to depend on the use of nuclear weapons to maintain the security of the United States." I said in a very soft voice. "He was shaken that day, with almost having to order the use of nuclear weapons, and he swore that he'd never be in so tight a position again. Yes, he would have used nuclear weapons that day if nothing else had been possible, but such use was, and is, always a last resort. Maybe one day we can rid the world of such things, and I know he's been talking with our friends about working towards that day. They are not ready to go there yet, preferring to focus instead on continuing their economic recovery before the costly expense of ridding the world of nuclear weapons."

"So you're saying the President would support getting rid of nuclear weapons but will use them if he has to?" Fo asked in a much calmer, but confused voice. "Isn't that hypocritical?"

"No, it is not hypocritical to a military thinker." I said softly. "Before you ask, the President is the Commander-in-Chief, and must at times think as a military commander. When you are faced on the battlefield with a fearsome weapon, you do not throw out your own supply of that same weapon just because you know how horrible it is. The moment you do that, the enemy will hit you with his because you cannot strike back and hurt him. If that wasn't a true fact, nuclear weapons would have been removed from our arsenal in 1990 when the Soviet Union ceased to exist. We still have them though, because that is a true principle. I can promise you right now, if every nation in the world that has nuclear weapons says they will destroy theirs, and make no more, dismantling their ability to make more, we will do the same without hesitation."

"That will never happen." Fo said sadly.

"People once said they'd never be used again." I reminded him gently. "People said we'd never face the situation we faced in the Great Oil Crisis. People said Americans would never do things like Hitler had done, but I still remember the stink of those desecrated churches in Idaho where the bodies had been stacked by Jefferson's men. Things we think will never happen do happen, and as many bad things as we've seen in the last few years, I think something good like that would be due for us."

"You really mean that, don't you?" Fo asked me with a look of surprise.

"Yes, I do." I told him. "I've been to four of the cities that were destroyed, and looked on the horror these weapons caused with my own eyes. I never want to see another one of them used again, and if we can get rid of them all, I would be very happy to see that day come."

"But you'd still use them?" Genevieve asked and I sighed.

"Yes, I would." I answered honestly and Fo's eyes sharpened again. "If the fate of America was on the line, if the lives of millions of our people were in danger, I'd support using them. I'd probably cry myself to sleep every night for weeks, and have nightmares for the rest of my life, but the alternative would be worse. Our job is to protect Americans and that is what we'll do. It's not to use nuclear weapons just because they exist, and we will use every other tool we have first."

"So, when will we be arriving in Israel and will we be able to get off the plane?" Bill Golding, another print reporter asked, changing the subject. Fo leaned back into his chair and studied me as I looked at the man who had asked the question.

"It'll be about four hours before we land." I answered. "Right now, we will be staying on the plane. They'll be topping off our water and collecting the sewage, but that's about all. We'll be running the generator we have in the ventilated bay for power, so it might get a bit warm during the day. "We're negotiating for a power connection, but Israel still runs low on power and has to rotate blackouts during the day so we're not holding our breath. Right now the only ones allowed off the plane are the maintenance crew and my chief of security for discussions with Israeli security."

"Will we be able to file stories?" Golding asked another question.

"Yes, as soon as we land we'll turn on the satellite phones and the fax machines." I informed him. "If you want to set up any video shots once we land we'll set up the transfer units as well. Well, thanks for your time, folks. I hope you enjoy the rest of the flight."

I still didn't understand why dad wanted the nuclear weapons rumor confirmed, but I'd done what he wanted during my first contact with the press, I'd given them all the main points that he wanted released. I was just happy to get out of there and back into the secure area of the plane.

I took a moment to look around. Four of the men were at the entertainment area with their headphones on, engrossed in a movie that was playing. Brian and Neil were talking to each other in their twinned seats, smiles on both their faces, and Kevins was arguing in a very low voice with Davies, who had been sharing a set of twinned seat/beds with Killmer. As I walked near them, I got the point that Kevins wanted Davies to move, and Davies was refusing. Davies, a tall blond that looked more like a model than a soldier or security guard was telling Kevins that just because Kevins finally kissed Killmer didn't mean Davies didn't trust him not to fight. I walked over towards them, and Davies with his back to me didn't see me until I was behind him, my arms reaching around his waist in a tight grasp.

"Why don't you come and spend some time with me, Barry." I said in a very low voice, calling him by his first name. He stiffened for a moment and then relaxed like putty. I loved this effect on the people in my circle. It gave me a thrill every time. I moved to his side and pulled him along as I moved towards my cabin. Looking back over my shoulder I caught Kevins' eye. "Oh, Kevins, do me a favor and move Barry's stuff to his new bunk, would you please?"

"Sure thing Dylan." Kevins said and I felt Davies stiffen a bit. However, a soft growl from my throat made him melt a little more and smile at me. As we moved into the conference room I noticed that Alan was standing next to Jennifer, and both of them had watched the whole scene and were now wearing looks of shock. That only made me more anxious to get Barry to my cabin and I quickened the pace.

"Later." I said as Martha opened her mouth as we crossed the conference room. She just smiled as well, shrugging at Paul who was laughing softly. We never made it to the bed itself since Davies practically dragged me to the floor as soon as the door was shut. I'd forgotten something about him when I decided to use this method of ending his argument with Kevins. Davies was a beautiful man, probably the most handsome in my circle, and he was a very even-tempered man. Several people had described him as calm as a still lake in the dead of spring. But when he was excited like this, he burned with a fire that would set entire forests ablaze.

Two hours later I found it difficult to walk normally when I came back to the conference room. My shower had been enlarged in the renovation (the second toilet removed as well as the door to the second cabin walled over), so Davies had fun a second time in the shower (after turning the water off so we didn't waste too much) and I was a little sore. It didn't make things any less uncomfortable for me when I walked out and Martha smiled as I made my way to the table for coffee. I noticed Paul receiving a single new dollar from her and smiling as well.

"What was that bet about?" I groaned as I sat down.

"How bad you'd be walking when you came back from Davies getting you back." She said with a slight frown at me. "I thought he'd be nicer, but Paul said you'd have trouble walking until Rogers gave you one of his massages."

"Where's Rogers?" I asked hopefully and they both laughed.

"He'll be available in a few minutes." Paul said with a smile. "I warned you about using that technique of stopping arguments on Davies. There's something about you being all seductive like you were that gets him hot and he loses what little restraint he has when it comes to making love."

"Paul!" I gasped in shock. "That sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"He is." Martha laughed and I felt shocked. I thought these two had all but declared themselves a couple within the group! She looked at my face and started laughing harder. Paul was laughing as well and it was a while before they calmed down enough to talk.

"Oh god, I forgot how naïve you can still be sometimes!" Martha said amidst some giggles. "The look on your face! I don't think I've seen you so shocked since the time that you caught Knight giving Darby a blow job while Darby was cooking."

"He was frying CHICKEN!" I retorted. "There was grease popping around and all Darby had been wearing was an apron!"

That only sent them into more gales of laughter. True, that had been the first week as we all adjusted to life in the Harvard house (actually it had been a block of apartments renovated for our use) and the apron had been covering Knight's head, but it was just the thought of someone having sex while cooking my dinner had sent me over the edge. It had been a joke for almost a week before the circle got tired of teasing me.

"Oh, I feel so much better now." Martha said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"So what was this about you and Davies?" I asked, realizing they'd brought up the kitchen incident in an attempt to divert me.

"Oh, that was at the Presidio." Martha explained, smiling even more as Paul started blushing. "You know how Davies gets that look in his face sometimes, that smoldering look that practically shouts 'I WANT YOU!'? Well, Paul let that look get to him one time right after we got your house in the Presidio set up. Paul asked Davies if he wanted to have some fun and the next thing he knew, Davies had Paul bent over his own desk. He'd never bottomed for a guy before."

"Oh god, I wish I'd seen a picture of that." I exclaimed, blushing slightly and heard Paul groaning aloud, his cheeks bright red. It looked good on him.

"So do I." Martha admitted, blushing slightly. "I keep asking him to do it again but he refuses."

"Weren't you going to talk about the communiqué from the Presidio?" Paul asked pointedly and she laughed before returning to business. The message had been a good one at last. The US Ambassador in Jordan had met with the King's Foreign Minister and reported that the meeting was actually very friendly. There was a good chance that Jordan would give permission within the next four to eight hours.

Of course that set off a long period of wondering if it was a genuine offer or a trap. Would Jordan, a member of the UIC, send up planes to shoot us down? Was there a SAM trap set up in Iraq? What other dangers awaited us? What game was being played here, what were the rules, and how could I change them?

Never play by the rules someone else sets; make them play by yours.

It was Nathan Timms, another of the Utah Boys, who came running into the conference room about an hour before landing to shout that Henry was on the television. As Paul turned it on, and tuned it to the right station, I wondered if he'd already solved all the problems down in Mexico City while I still hadn't even reached my destination. A little bit of jealousy was needling my spine, wondering how he got all the easy assignment, but I pushed it away.

Henry didn't deserve that attitude.

One thing that hit me as soon as the picture showed up, and the sound, was that Henry did look handsome. He'd grown a little bit more, and let his hair grow out slightly longer than the tight army cut we'd worn most of the time. He was standing at a podium in some big hall of some building in Mexico City and I immediately learned something about him I hadn't known before: Henry spoke Spanish very fluently. I never knew he had taken the time to learn the language so well. I'd picked up a few words of various languages by other children at school: Spanish, Hmong, Vietnamese, Chinese, and even some Russian. I still didn't speak anything as fluently as Henry was now exhibiting by speaking in Spanish. It made me wonder how well I really did know my brother if this had been something we had never talked about.

He soon switched to English though, and I put aside my wondering to listen to his speech. It seemed he'd arrived in Mexico City to find literally millions of people rioting and looting as a large part of the crowd stormed the Presidential Palace and main seats of the most recent government. When he'd arrived, a convoy of vehicles had escorted him safely through the crowds and he'd arrived to talk to the leaders of this popular revolt who were at the Presidential Palace. However, instead of meeting their demands for immediate assumption of US control of the area, he had gotten them to release the most recent Mexican leaders and was now forming a commission made up of them and the riot leaders to look into long-term solutions for Mexico. Where that commission would lead, he would not speculate, but Mexico had a proud and independent history, and that we (the US administration) did not want to see them throw that away because of temporary problems.

Really it was a quite masterful handling of the whole issue. We knew that while the urban residents and many others supported being under US leadership right now, there were more people in the southern states and rural regions who wanted nothing to do with us. Among them were the leaders of the old faction that had just lost control. Henry switched into Spanish again for several long minutes, and then switched back to English and explained what steps were being taken to restore order by the Mexican leaders, although it was Henry announcing them, and encouraged the people to follow what he felt were most sensible directions. Then he mentioned that several hundred more US Marines were headed in to monitor local police forces as they restored order, and to make sure that all sides were following the sensible directions.

It sounded as if Henry was doing quite well for himself, and once his speech ended, we listened to the television anchors at NBS studios discussing what appeared to be a rapid return to calm in the Mexican capital following Henry's speech (I learned then that it had been recorded an hour ago and this was just a recap). Then they turned to speculation about me, and my mission, stating that no word had been released from the administration or their reporters who were traveling with me. I had an idea then and had Paul switch over to the CCN channel where they were reporting the same issues. Their broadcasts, to my surprise was being very positive towards Henry's approach, and at the same time very negative about my mission, largely speculating that the lack of news indicated a total lack of progress.

I mulled over my idea of making a live video call to their studios but I finally concluded that it had not been nearly as brilliant as I had originally thought. There were too many variables I didn't control that could go wrong and result in more troubles for me. For now, I'd have to take the criticism and doubt from both stations and let events unfold as they did. However, once we were on the ground, it might be a good idea, and I discussed it over with Martha, Paul, and Knight while the plane approached the Israeli coastline, and began to descend. A flight of their fighters met us, and our Navy escort returned for the long journey back to the carrier while we began our approach into the airport.

We landed without incident, and taxied to a secure part of the airport where a ring of Israel security assumed positions facing away from the plane (obviously guarding us from outsiders, not keeping us prisoner). Paul, Martha, and Lt. Colonel Snelling all descended from the plane to talk with the Israeli security officer, a representative from the government, and an airport official. They came back on board about ten minutes later, with essentially good news. A power connection would be established and our water tanks and sewage would be taken care of by airport support crews. The phones were turned on, and the reporters in the back were anxiously filing stories with their news agencies.

I was watching from the conference room when Fo's call came in and the anchors immediately cut to take his call. There seemed to be a great deal of surprise that we were in Israel, waiting for clearance to proceed with our flight from either Jordan or Egypt, and I was very surprised that when one of the anchors asked Fo why we didn't have the Navy blast all their fighters out of the way, Fo said 'I think the Jacobs boy actually wants to try talking this time instead of shooting.'

Maybe our little chat in the back cabin had done some good, I was thinking but then Fo went and confirmed the rumors that last time we faced this situation we had threatened to use nuclear weapons. Even though dad had wanted that news out before we reached our destination, I still didn't like hearing it over the airwaves. The only good thing was when one of the anchors asked Fo if that was what I was being sent to do again, Fo had used my line about dad just being able to call the Ayatollah and tell him. Fo expressed his opinion that we really were being sent to talk before any military options were considered. His saying that surprised not only me, but the anchors in the studio who pushed him on why he thought that.

"Dylan Jacobs came back to our cabin shortly before we landed." Fo answered the question with a neutral tone. "He was quite honest and upfront with answering our questions, and from his answers I believe that he understands the horrors of nuclear weapons and is trying to avert their possible use."

"You couldn't have given him a better line to say." Martha noted with a smile as the anchors continued pushing him for more specifics. He didn't give them much though and I could see the confusion in their eyes. It was a sweet feeling of victory when I switched over to listen to Genevieve who was speculating on when we might take off again.

Outside, I knew the airport trucks that would collect our wastewater and fill up our water tanks would be approaching. Paul had deployed six of our security detail under the wings and fuselage of the plane, and the entire aircrew was currently outside checking over the plane. An enlisted member of the crew, who was bonded to me, would shake hands with all the local workers, checking to see if they felt anything that would indicate another person had controlled or bonded these workers. I had thought it was being overly cautious at several points, but I never argued security with Paul unless it was something very important.

The news stations were switching back to the Mexico topic and I was soon bored since they were just speculating. I always had my thesis to work on these days, so I got up and headed back into my cabin, patting Matthew on the shoulder as I passed through the security office. He grabbed my hand before I could continue on and pointed at one of the exterior screens. Like all the detail members, he had his earpiece and microphone on and was obviously listening to something. I looked at the screen he was pointing to and saw Halpern and Jones approaching the vehicle as the occupants talked with the Israeli guard commander.

"What's up?" I asked Matthew. Another of the blonde Utah boys, Matthew loved the security office assignment. There was something about the cameras that gave him a feeling of superiority when he was on duty there and I'd noticed he always seemed to have an erection when he came off shift.

"The jeep just pulled up and started talking to that officer." Matthew stated. "They almost didn't stop, but the Israeli commander stood in front of them and didn't budge. The guy in the passenger seat is a higher ranking officer, Major, if I remember the Israeli emblems right. Paul told Halpern and Jones to go see what was up."

"I hope those two don't do anything stupid." I muttered, remembering the time they'd all but strip-searched the members of my Harvard study group because they thought one of the guys was shifty-eyed. Their paranoia had gotten better, but it was still there.

Our cameras were damn good, and as Matthew zoomed in on the vehicle, quietly talking into his radio to the two detail members jogging towards it, I saw that both men were indeed in dark suits and appeared to be talking angrily with the Israeli guard commander. My curiosity about what this was all about was growing and I decided my thesis would wait another few minutes.

"Okay, the guard officer is talking to Paul now." Matthew told me since I couldn't hear the chatter over the radio network. "The Major is supposedly from the Israeli Intelligence and says he has some important information for you. The commander's orders are that no one approaches the plane without prior permission from his superiors and us and that's what they're arguing about. Paul's in the communications shack and he's getting the government on the line. Okay, Halpern and Jones are there now. Paul's told them to greet the officer and his driver and…holy shit!"

Time seemed to flow into slow motion at that moment. On the screen, I could see that Jones had just shaken hands with the Major and was now backing up, screaming something into his microphone while his gun hand went into the dark suit coat he was wearing, reaching for his shoulder holster and pistol. Halpern was backing away from the driver in the same way, and the Israeli guards were reacting with surprise as the Israeli Major realized something was wrong. An alarm began blaring over the plane's speakers, the alarm for a security breach and I realized that once again Paul had been right to have someone bonded to me physically touch anyone who came near me.

The jeep's driver slammed on the accelerator just as Jones and Halpern had drawn their weapons. The jeep surged forward as the first bullets left their guns, wounding both men in the jeep, but not killing them. I could hear feet pounding throughout the plane as several of my detail stormed into the conference room to get to me when the wounded Major reached into his uniform, and a second later, more bullets hit him, this time punching through his head, killing him instantly.

But not before he'd completed whatever it was he was doing.

The answer to what he'd been doing was clear a moment later when he exploded into a giant fireball that caused a secondary explosion in the jeep. The plane rocked as the blast wave hit it, and I could see from the security cameras that the fireball was sending metal fragments in all directions. The sounds of some of those fragments hitting the plane were clearly audible, and I was tackled to the ground, all within a few seconds. I could feel that two of my bonded men were now on top of me while Matthew was screaming something over the radio network.

None of that mattered, though, because at that moment I felt something inside of me snap and break and realized that it was the bond connection with both Jones and Halpern. I'd never been this close before when a bonded member of my circle died. Truth be told, the only other time had been the follower of Jefferson I'd ordered to commit suicide, and he'd been nearly four hundred miles away when he did it. No, this was my first experience with it directly, and Jeremy's description of what it was like was nothing like really experiencing it, and in duplicate.

I could feel it as life slipped out of those two men. I could feel the pain of burns, of fragments punching through their bodies, and I could feel the essence of the two men as their bodies gave up the life they held, and I could feel the bond snapping free, and in that last moment of life I could feel their true reactions to the bond, and how they truly felt about me without the bond influencing them, and it was horrible. The pain, the rage, the fear, and the disgust from inside these two men left me feeling dirty, and unclean. As the feeling faded and their lives were gone, I sobbed quietly into the rug I was being held down on, and wondered how I'd ever convinced myself that what I'd done to these people was really alright. Deep down, under the power of the bond that made them love me, they hated me and would forever resent what I'd done to them. I could feel them lifting me up now, and dragging me back into the conference room, putting me in a chair and I didn't even bother to recognize who was doing this. I was too busy wondering if there was a way to undo the bond, so that they'd no longer be forced to serve me, to protect me. I didn't want to feel their hatred when they died the way Halpern and Jones had, I didn't want to feel their true hatred and disgust.

"DYLAN!" Brian Dellington's voice was sharp as it called my name, bringing me back to the present. I could see his little brother Neil standing anxiously just inside the room as Brian tried to get my attention.

"I'm so sorry, Brian." I mumbled in response. The Utah boys were among the worst really, of the crimes I'd committed when bonding these people. They had been given a choice: me or death. They should have taken death, it would have been kinder for them.

"What are you talking about?" Brian demanded with some confusion. "There's nothing you could have done. Jones and Halpern died doing their job. There's nothing to be sorry about."

"Yes, there is." I argued in a low voice. "Brian, I felt them die."

"You what?" Brian asked in a high, sharp voice. I could see Paul enter the room then and come quickly to where Brian and I were talking.

"I felt them die, and in that last moment, I could feel the bond break." I whispered in that same horrified voice. Paul was now listening closely. "Before they…passed on, I could feel how they truly felt about me, the anger, the hatred, the fear. I know that all of you must feel that way now."

"For someone with your intelligence you really can be stupid sometimes." Brian said in a harsh voice that shocked me and I looked up at him in surprise. He had a stern look on his face and was frowning slightly at me. "Listen, what you're talking about, we understand that and we've all talked about it at times."

"Brian." Paul's voice held a harsh warning to it when he spoke, and he was looking at me with concern.

"No, Paul, he needs to hear this now." Brian said in a firm voice, and I was surprised. None of the Utah boys had been so vocal before. "We've all talked about this amongst ourselves, and we've talked about it with the scientists at school, but Dylan's never heard this."

"That's because we all thought it would be hard on him especially with Jones and Halpern." Paul said and I was now looking at him curiously. What had been held back from me?

"They're dead, Paul, and he felt it from them when they died." Brian said and Paul looked at him for a moment before nodding.

"You're the one who has been able to express it best, Brian." Paul stated softly, looking at me again with concern. "Explain it to Dylan."

"Okay, look, Dylan, you know how when you bonded me, and the others, we didn't really like you?" Brian asked and I nodded. "You see, we could still remember those feelings and they bugged me and a few others with how we felt now. We talked about it, prayed about it, and eventually we found that those feelings were fading. We all thought it was just the bond getting rid of them, but when we had those sessions at the school with the psychologists, they really made us examine them and talk about them and we all learned some things about those feelings.

"When you bond us to you, you switch something inside of us so that we need you; we need your affection, your love, your approval. We become something other than what we were, but what we were remains a part of us, inside us. We can remember that, and that's what we were feeling inside. That's what made Jones and Halpern the way they were, because what they had been and what they were now was so different. But it's different for everyone else here. Dylan, I hated what I was. I hated the things I did but I was scared to admit it to myself, and when you bonded me, a whole new life opened up for me and I love my life now. Not just the 'me' that is bonded to you, but the person I was before as well, loves what I'm doing. That's why those negative feelings went away and aren't there anymore. It's because I'm happy with my life. We all are. That's why the scientists are so methodically searching for people to be bonded to the others like you. They've figured out what kind of people can learn to love it, and which will hate it forever."

"How could you not hate me?" I demanded and the room was filled with people chuckling softly. "I take away your free will, I force you to do what I want!"

"No, you don't." Paul said sternly, but smiling still at me. "You take away our total control over ourselves, yes, but you don't take away all of our free will. You let us lead our lives pretty much as we want, within the normal confines of our jobs."

"But you also give us so much more." Brian cut in with a smile. "Dylan, I don't have to worry about if I'm doing the right thing, I know it, and I can feel it. You're changing the world for the better, and thanks to you I'm a part of that. I really feel like I'm doing what God wants from me, and that's all I've ever wanted in life. When we served the Prophet, I thought we were helping do God's work, but we weren't. It was just his way of getting us to you, putting us at your side, where we belong. After talking with those doctors, I realized I've always been a follower, I always looked for things outside of myself to make me feel worthy, and I've got that now, and wouldn't trade it in for anything."

"I think Doctor Rhodes called it the 'co-dependent's wet dream' when she figured that aspect out." Paul said with a chuckle. "Not all of us share Brian's religious leanings, or yours, Dylan, but we all do know that this is where we belong. You give to us, as well as take, and Jones and Halpern just weren't quite capable of accepting that fully. Don't take what they were feeling as true about everyone else. We don't feel that way."

"I'll think about what you've said." I told them with a heavy sigh. I still had a lot of thinking to do. "What's going on now?"

"I assume you figured out Jones and Halpern detected that the Major was controlled?" Paul said and I nodded. "Well, the Major, and the jeep were obviously rigged with explosives. They've left a crater in the concrete. The Israelis are launching gun ships and sending armor to surround us in case there are more of them. I've talked with Martha and she's calling the State Department. Part of me wants to get you into the air, but frankly I don't know if it's necessary."

"How many people did we lose altogether?" I asked.

"There are a few minor cuts and bruises from our other people." Paul answered. "The Israelis lost about fifteen people. They're regrouping fast and mad as all hell. The government's already called saying they'll lock this place down tight if we stay, but they also understand if we want to leave. Like I said, I'm not sure which way to go with this, but we should be able to check everyone they put around the plane, and maybe if we stay we'll be able to find out who was controlling those two. They were bonded, not just controlled as well. Jones used the code word for bonded threat, not just controlled."

"We stay." I said. "Running wouldn't look good right now. Okay, this changes the stakes here. I can't help but suspect this was from the Ayatollah and he's got a gifted working for him. Have our people check everyone on the ground, and tell the Israelis no aircraft. I'll need to talk to dad. Whatever we do when we get to our destination, we'll need to include the concept that they have a gifted on their side somehow. We were so confident that only Americans were given that drug."

"They could have gotten an American child that was born to immigrant Muslims." Paul said quickly. "There could be a few dozen ways that they got their hands on someone, but for now, I agree. The only question is, what to do about the reporters. They've got their cameras with them and satellite gear. They could just transmit."

"Shit." I cussed. It wasn't something I usually did, but I did do it on occasion. At my nod towards the television, it was turned on and we were instantly treated to the picture of a plume of smoke from the tarmac. They were using a videophone transmission and Genevieve was telling the studio that they still had no official word on how many people were hurt or what was happening next. She described it as being locked down in the back, and the studio anchor asked her to guess why we weren't moving yet. "Paul, get Martha back there to give her the basics. I don't care if they send it out live. Just tell them it was a suicide bomber dressed as an Israeli Major. Israeli security and our security stopped them before they could get close to us. Israel's beefing up security now and we're checking the plane for damage while consulting with the Presidio on what to do. Get her there fast."

"Got it." Paul said, rushing out and I watched the scene that was being shown through one of the plane's little windows. I could see ambulance crews approaching, along with what seemed like fifty military vehicles. It wasn't a pretty sight and I wondered just what the affects of this would be and what the original intent of the bombing was.