The elevator door closed a guillotine, the dappled light through the courtyards leafy canopy and sound of the young children of the 9th and 10th troops cut off as the Granite was plunged into the “Down Deep” as Sutler called it—to the cavernous war centres and situation rooms of Strategic Air Command and the Commonwealth Defence Administration where Sutler preferred to haunt in his rare moments out of Sim. The rest of the Colonels were already present as Granite entered the vast space, a single long table down the centre of a space big enough for a hundred. Only one of the giant screens on the far wall was still on, showing a looping shot of the Flag overlayed with the text “America Prevails”.

“Colonel Granite. You’re here.” Sutler said, flashing him the same goofy, lopsided grin he’d always had since Granite first met him back in mid-2230’s—the rest of his waxen face was motionless. 

“Yes sir, sorry gents. Business over at Party HQ.”

“Who is in charge of the Party these days?” Cortiz asked absently as Granite continued his approach and took his place.

“Moria Brown,” Granite said. “She ran a commissary in the Springvale settlement, very early Party member. Rose to prominence due to her input on the irrigation system for the Mall. Unorthodox, if effective.”

“And now she’s in-charge of the Party? Some bilge turd mechanic?” Colonel Fuentes said with an incredulous snort before cutting himself short at Sutler’s inquisitorial gaze. Only Granite had known Sutler long enough to remember that he was a Down Deeper from below the water line—the old Seabees descendants were very proud of their little slice of the old Rig, and Sutler (as the last of them) carried an entire dead cultures worth of dismissive shit-flinging from the mid-deck Army types.

“In-charge is a strong word,” Granite interjected, cutting off the awkward pause. “Besides, we had little luck with the business types before her. They thought above their station.”

“Like that shitbird Moriarty,” Colonel Hale said with a sick smile. “Glad we gave him his chicken dinner early on.”

“Yeah,” Sutler said. “I remember when we brought him here. Skimming brass of-course as they all are. Not even bad discharge. I remember actually, he looked me dead in the eyes and blubbered ‘But… I’m the Party Chair.’ Who gives a fuck I said.”

“Why do we call them ‘the Chair’? Weren’t we original going to go with Speaker?”

“Too [i]Canadian[/i],” Sutler said. “Etymologically Chair doesn’t confer any specific authority. First amongst equals et-cetera.”

“Yes Sir. But they [i]they[/i] understand that?”

“This Brown seems content to realise her place at least. These shitty little job officer types seem to do the best.”

“Unconsciously as-well,” Sutler added. “We don’t want people who agree with us through rational thought—which is circumstantial. Blind acceptance is the key. But anyway, they’re animals and already dead so let’s move onto actual business. The Pittsburgh settlement seems receptive to our advances.”

“Yes Sir. I read the reply after Billings passed it along to me. Suitably acquiescent.”

“Yes-yes,” Sutler said absently. “As if our people need their congratulations. Still we’ll have to devise something. Pittsburgh is in Verti range, maybe another fly over worthy of the Good General is in order. A demonstration of power, as-well as an effective manoeuvre. I fear we won’t have many of them left.”

There was another brief moment of pause. The loss of Blue-One had been unexpected. It had been a damn lucky hit. 

“We need to go full steam on that. This could be an excellent opportunity for us.”

“I’ll speak with Richter,” Sutler said. “He always had the fortitude for these long-range Ops and he has a good team with Sharp and Knowles.”

“The raid was exceptionally well timed Sir,” Granite said. “It gave us the rest of the time we needed to shore up the Shenandoah Line. But there’s been some disturbing developments. We lost a couple of settlements behind the Line. Razed to the ground, no survivors.”

“Yes, I heard. I thought we put that down to opportunists?” Colonel Glover said. “Like the Baltimore lot have been more active recently since we’ve had to divert the Birds.”

The Baltimore region had always been a problem. Shortly after the Enclave ascendency, predatory gangs had remerged to enslave and raid the refugees flocking to the Purifier. Like Paradise Falls, their bases had been open and expansive and not designed to defend against an aerial assault. They’d been easy fodder and massacred wholesale. Only a few years ago had they started to reemerge, now operating of basements and urban ruins to pillage the Enclave’s most northerly settlements and disguised for convenient bombing runs. 

“This space was designed to wage war on the World!” Sutler shouted. “Not deal with some pissant rebels. Stars and stripes I hate the fucking future so much.”

“We’re not sure Sir,” Granite quickly interjected. “I’ve seen the photos myself from these raids in the west. The big boot prints give away that these are FEV mutant attacks.”

“Infiltration units? From these mutants? They’re fucking nine feet tall,” Colonel Fuentes said.

“That’s the thing Colonel,” Granite continued. “You remember the AAR on the I-50 run. How some of the mutants were [i]blue[/i]?”

“Ah,” Colonel Ortiz said. “That’s why you asked about the archives. Stealth-Boys?”

“Stealth-Boys?”

“There was something in the Pentagon archives about skin discoloration in Chicom infiltration units. Blue pigmentation. It had been suggested that it was side-effect from the usage of stealth technology.”

“And why am I just hearing about this?” Sutler demanded.

“It was just a few settlements; we weren’t certain as to the cause.”

“It sounds pretty damn certain to me! Do Stealth Boys show up in thermals?”

“Not sure Sir. We’ll have to check the archives.”

“We have to appear omnipotent. That means all seeing.” Sutler said with an exasperated gasp. “Evacuate more settlements east of the Line. The influx of refugees from Brotherhood territory gives us good rope-fodder for a while to maintain the ease of the masses. I want anyone who’s so much as held a spanner for a Brotherhood fighter hanged in public. Distribute the swine around as needs be.”

“Perhaps Sir,” Ortiz said. “We should finally make an announcement. It could rile the rabble up in our benefit.”

“Yes Sir,” Granite said. “The Party know something is happening. The western refugees and redeployment of the Peace Force. We need to get a lead on this.”

“Very well,” Sutler said finally. “It’s not unreasonable. Put some stick about after all. They need to understand that we are here for their safety. A good threat can remind the newer ones that things haven’t always been so stable.”