That particular datum called for the largest caveat in the entire report. The report tossed a bone to a theory that Earth was currently in the midst of an ice age and that the only thing holding it off was the current rate of CO2 emission; in essence that the current scheduled ice age was held at bay by "greenhouse effect." If the theory were true, and some climatologists were willing to admit it might be, ending the era of fossil fuels could coincidentally cause an ice age in and of itself.
If an ice age ensued from the war, win or lose, some of the most civilized regions of the world would become untenable. And the conditions projected for the war itself? Mike had seen the raw reports, the ones that so far had not leaked to the press. That knowledge and calling in a few favors owed him had created an awareness of a situation that no parent should ever have to face. With his mind on those thoughts he got out in the deepening twilight and walked into the kitchen of the holiday-festive house. There was a scent of the cedar Christmas tree cut from the family farm, and Sharon had been baking cookies.
"Hi, honey, I'm home!" The expression was trite, but the emotion behind it was heartfelt.
Sharon came into the room leading the youngest. Mike's heart lurched when he realized Michelle was almost too large for her pink footie pajamas.
For the past long months Mike had spent between sixty and eighty hours a week at GalInf headquarters in Fort Benning or hopping from one military base to another. As one of the few experts on the new infantry systems, every time there was a snag he had to go troubleshoot. In most cases there were honest difficulties with assimilating new technology but on several occasions he had run into the technophobia mentioned in regards to the new ACS commander.
Eight months with almost no contact with his family and darn near no social contacts at all had left him drained. It was time, however short, for a break.
"Merry Christmas, sweetie," he said to his daughter, opening his arms for a hug. "Do you have a hug for Daddy?"
"No!" She hugged her mother's leg and buried her face in its protective warmth.
"Why not?"
"Not Daddy."
"Am too!"
"Not!"
"Meanie! Pooh!" He blew on her hair and she giggled.
" 'Top!"
"Meanie! Pooh!"
Giggle. " 'Top!"
"Meanie! . . ."
"Pooh!" Giggle.
"Aggh! Got me! Hug?"
She wrapped her arms around him and, just for a moment, all was right with the world.
"Do you have the holiday off?" asked Sharon. End of moment.
"Actually I have the week and a bit. But there's bad news to go with the good."
"What?" There was another surprise here and she was getting tired of surprises. Coping as a single mother for the last eight months had not helped.
"I'm getting attached to the ACS unit deploying to Diess with the expeditionary force as an advisor," he said, standing up with the pink bundle of his daughter in his arms. "You sure are getting heavy!"
"You're going off planet?" Sharon asked, stunned.
"And how." Mike nodded, dreading the coming argument.
"When?"
"Next week. This is the pre-deployment leave."
"How come everyone else gets a couple of months' warning?" Sharon demanded.
"Probably because everyone else has a normal job," said Mike, reasonably.
"Well, dammit!"
"Honey," Mike gestured that he was still holding Michelle. "Can we save this for a bit?"
"Sure. Since you're home you can give Cally a bath."
"Okay. Did I miss supper?"
"Yes, and if you hadn't I'd have thrown it outside anyway."
"Honey."
"I know, but this is just a little bit hard to take, okay?" Sharon had tears in her eyes. "It's kind of hard being a single mom all the time, okay? And it's kind of hard knowing what's coming. And I've just about had as much as I can take. The projects are piling up and I feel like every time I take time off for the family I'm letting our side down!"
Mike stood silent. This was one of those times when no words would help.
"Why is Mommy crying?" asked Michelle
"Because Daddy has to go away for a while."
"Why?"
"Because it's Daddy's job."
"I don't want you to go away!"
"I know, sweetie pie, but I have to go."
"I don't want you to!" In sympathetic reaction Michelle started to cry.
Shit. "I didn't want to get into this, honey, but maybe we could go down to Florida for the week. Mom would love to see the kids, I'm sure."
"Granma?"
"Yes, pumpkin, Granma."
"We're going to Granma's house!"
"We're going to Granma's house?" asked Cally, arriving late from a potty break.
"Honey, I don't know if I can get the time," said Sharon, automatically. "We're knee deep in modifying the F-22s."
"If Lockheed won't let you go under the circumstances, quit. It's not like we'll need the money and you could spend more time with the kids."
"Let's not talk about this now," she said, shaking her head. "Let's get Michelle and Cally to bed and then we'll talk."
"Okay."
* * *
After the children were tucked away Mike and Sharon pulled out a bottle of "the good stuff" and talked; it was a good way to wait up for Santa. Sharon, curled on the couch, brandy snifter in hand, tried as best she could to bring him up-to-date on the children's lives, all the little things that he had missed over the previous months. Mike, sitting on the floor, watching the lights of the Christmas tree blink, told her in greater detail about his work and about the overall preparation for the upcoming war. And, violating security, he finally told her about the full nature of the threat and what it meant.
"Everything?" asked Sharon, setting down her snifter.
"All the coastal plains. We just will not have the equipment to fight the Posleen by then. And that's just in the United States. Don't ask me about Third World countries."
"Then why are we sending a suit unit to Diess and Barwhon?" asked Sharon in bewilderment, picking the snifter up and taking a deep slug. The warm burn of the cognac helped reestablish her hard-won calm.
"A battalion of ACS will not be a deciding factor, at least that is what the High Command thinks and I agree."
"You mean the Joint Chiefs."
"No, I mean the High Command. How they're going to sell it, I don't know, but that's what the upper command echelon of the United States Defense Forces are going to be officially called. New service, new names. Like Line and Fleet and Strike Commands; out with the old, in with the new. The remainder of the Navy and Air Force that aren't being transferred to Fleet are going to be rolled into the whole, with the High Commander being an Army general. The part that no one is talking about is that it takes a layer of civilian control out of the military. There are some constitutional issues that I don't think are being fully explored.
"Anyway, we had hoped to earn enough funds from the units on Diess and Barwhon to equip multiple ACS units. But, because of procurement issues, the first equipment will go to the ACS units for the deployments to Barwhon and Diess. Only after their needs are satisfied will dedicated Terran Fleet Strike be supplied. But those Galactic-funded units are going to be parceled out to all the invaded planets, not just Earth. We need dedicated Ground Force ACS units, lots of them, and we probably won't have any when the first wave arrives.
"Some forces might get unpowered suits just before the invasion. Might. We've been fighting for training time but I don't think we'll get much." Mike sipped pale cognac and considered how to go on. There was so much he felt she should know, both as his partner and as a soon-to-be-recalled naval officer.