The Colonels were gathered around the table in the expansive ExComm briefing room, nominal equals arranged around a round table. They were all, inherently, survivors of the Enclave’s greatest calamities over the century—people who survived by virtue of being on post somewhere else. They were all leafing through the briefing packs before them, examining the glossy photographs in detail as Granite chaired the meeting.

“Mariposa?” Colonel MacDonald said. “It’s absurd, that’s over 3000 klicks from Cincinnati.”

“There are no other sources of FEV.”

“There was some research conducted in West Virginia, so the records say.”

“Clearly that must be the case. The Brotherhood of Steel, in their ignorance, has created this army locally. Probably as a vanguard to attack us.”

“The transcripts from refugees that have been turning up indicate that the mutant army came from their west, fighting them back to Cincinnati.” Granite said, cutting over the general chatter.

“They are rabble, and probably mistaken,” Colonel Ortiz countered. “Do we even know what the western most extent of their occupation was? Would you place the same level of geographic knowledge in the denizens under our control Granite?”

“It is immaterial,” Colonel Fuentes said. “These are so many semantics. The present facts indicate that there is a large army of mutants occupying Cincinnati who have moved in a westerly direction. They clearly have the capacity for self-replication—from *somewhere*. Look here,” Fuentes indicated one of the photos captured by the recon team.

Super Mutants were moving through a lightly urbanised area, but rather than the shambolic fashion that was typical, they were exhibiting a greater degree of organisation—so much as could be ascertained from a single photograph.

“They are maintaining some degree of formation; they are keeping close to cover. They are clearly more advanced than the those produced from the Vault 87 strain; even those dumb brutes had enough going-on to abduct people to bolster their numbers.”
“Indeed Colonel Fuentes,” Granite said, silently grateful that someone seemed to be taking this more seriously. “Look at three.”
Dutifully, the Colonels turned back to photograph no. three, taken by the recon team on their approach to Cincinnati. A column of refugees were pouring away from the glowing city against columns of rising smoke. 

“This level of damage, the entire city was assaulted in a coordinated campaign across the entire line of contact. These are not the shambolic monsters lumbering around D.C. They appear well armed, with heavy weaponry, now bolstered by the Brotherhood’s arsenal.”
Granite cast a quick side glance at Sutler, whom had been largely silent through-out the proceedings. His calculating mind doubtless processing what he was hearing.

First had been the revelation that Granite had conducted this operation without his knowledge. Then the confirmation of the mutant threat—the refugee columns streaming into their western-most dominion had been causing alarm even before Granite’s team had come back. Then someone mentioned Mariposa. 

Mariopsa was an old army base in California. The source of the FEV from which the Project, the unrealised salvation of the American people, had required. The place where Sutler’s father had was KIA to retrieve those samples. Sutler hadn’t really spoken much about his father, even before ’77; now their parents belonged to an entirely different age. Granite had always privately felt, for decades, that Sutler’s inability to put ’42 behind him were perhaps holding them back. Now, it seemed like the ghosts from the past were coming back for them all.

“How is the SIOP configured for this threat?” MacDonald again. 

“Much of the initial stages can remain,” Granite said. “The Shenandoah Valley will be our primary defensive line, blow every bridge standing north of Charlottesville, FOL at Harpers Ferry.”

“Can the Peace Force be relied upon?”

“They handled the mutants in downtown well enough.”

“It’s not the same,” Granite said. “We had the advantage of numbers in D.C. The Mariposa Mutant hide is thick, but they’d go down under sustained fire. We may not have the advantage of being able to concentrate our fire like that… the Peace Force is largely about maintaining order, not offensive operations.”

“We are going to DefCon 3,” Sutler said finally and everyone fell silent.

“We are going to mobilise the Peace Force reserves Granite, and I will summon the Party Select Committee to expand the reserve list by 50%. All Peace Force leave is cancelled. All transfers are cancelled. All Party HQs are to conduct censuses of numbers. And we are going to call an All-Hands Congress.”

There was a moment of pause at that, it had been a long time since all the members of the Last Watch had been in-sim.
“Who is furthest away?” Sutler directed the question at one of the mute constructs that the simulation could create, and they used generally as aides. 

“Captain Richter,” it returned flatly. “He and elements of the Second Troop are conducting peace keeping operations in vicinity of Walkersville.”

“They’re cancelled. Send them return orders, and the rest.”

The aide construct scuttled away.

[hr]

When the meeting was over, Granite was asked to stay behind.

“You’re *team*,” Sutler said, “are to be remanded for extensive decontamination.”

Granite knew what that meant, and had them confined to quarters beforehand anyway—at least they weren’t going to be killed.
“And you are to prepare an unclassified version of this report for transmission to the Pittsburgh occupation.”
That however was unexpected.

“Sure Alan… you’re going to bring them in on this?”

“Pittsburgh is downstream of Cincinnati down the Ohio. Plus, if any Brotherhood elements did withdraw, where do you think that they are likely to go? They certainly weren’t going to come here. They may have access to additional intelligence that we don’t have. We always make use of local sources when we can.”

“Very well Alan. We can present it with the next water shipment.”

“Indeed…” Alan said finally before a long pause. “You didn’t have your team deployed, to the extent of friendly territory, by Vertibird Granite.”

“Yes… sir. Because I knew that you were aware of all Vertbirid flights,” Granite confessed, “and I figured that you might pull the plug.”

It was pointless to lie to Sutler, even more so when he clearly already knew everything.

“Don’t make me clips your wings Granite,” Sutler said calmly. “I’ve known you too long to want to do that. So don’t wilfully keep things from me again—regardless of your intentions.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Now I’ve got to inform the Party. You’re dismissed.”