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Date/Time: April 18th 2032
President Wychin looked at the video screen again, and slammed his fist down in frustration. A complete and utter failure! Dropship shot down before reaching target area, entire team surviving with some serious wounds. Some alien freak probably spotted the dropship because of sloppy piloting work, Wychin thought. And that little pipsqueak Philips got one of the best men in the USSA a week-long stay in the hospital! Time to give the man some... motivation. Wychin chuckled as he pushed a few buttons on his video screen.
"Captain Philips, we've got a transmission for you on secure channel." An operator's voice crackleld over the intercom.
"Thanks, I'll take it in here."
"Patching through..."
Philips maintained his composure as he looked on the screen. Inside, however, he was very shaken up.
"Captain, I believe you know what I'm calling about. I don't think I need to tell you that you dropped the ball on that last one."
"Yes sir."
"The Cold Force has yet to completely and utterly fail a mission, Captain. Back in my day, we came pretty damn close. When McManus was in charge, the threat of failure always loomed overhead. This time, you got lucky - it's the air force that bungled up the job. Your record hasn't been too clean, so far though."
"With all due respect sir... I don't think I'm cut out for this job anymore. The troops hate my guts, and frankly I don't ..."
"You wanted this job, Captain, remember? You went out of your way to kiss ass and show off how good you were at commanding. You participated, with distinction, in several high-level ops. And now you want to chicken out? Remember, I created you. I created the ISB. I created the whole god damn USSA! So I think I deserve a little respect from some little dork who can't even control an understrength commando unit... "
Wychin sighed. "Well, I've got another job for you. Should be simple enough... may even get you some respect."
Philips nodded, sweat rolling off his brow.
"Intel's been picking up some weird-ass transmissions on our side of the border...heading out towards alien territory, and coming back. Obviously, the job is to home in on the source and shut it down. Whoever's there is an alien or some human who thinks the aliens will spare them if for some strange reason they manage to turn this around." Wychin chuckled. "So, once again, it's quite simple. No sneaking, no infiltration - just go in and blast the place apart."
Philips grinned and saluted. "Yes sir!"
"Wychin out."
As he pushed the button, Wychin chuckled. Leaning back in his chair, he chuckled some more. Ain't nothing like pulling the strings on a puppet show he thought.
Written on June 22nd by Andrew Pokrovski AKA President Wychin