February 23, 2047: Chattanooga, Tennessee

"General Wilson," Michael McNeil said as he walked into the man's office.

"General McNeil," the commander of NAU Military Forces, East replied, "it's good to see you."

"Good to see you too," McNeil stated, extending his hand. As they shook, he continued, "You know why I was sent here."

"That I do, general. That I do. Sit down, please," he continued.

"Yes, it will," McNeil agreed. "First, officially, I have been told by the head of Zone B-7 to tell you that your concerns are appreciated and we are taking them under consideration. Second, I have also been officially asked to ask if you have any requests."

"Unofficially?"

"Unofficially, the man thinks you're a Chicken Little, and chances are, if he gets his way, you won't get anything."

"I figured as much," Wilson sighed, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers together, as he put them up to his face. "Look, you've been out here in this part of the North American Yellow Zone, also known as the former Southeastern USA. You know what's going on."

"Look," McNeil replied. "It's even a little hard for me to believe. I mean, I killed Kane in Cairo. I can't believe he's back."

"Here's the thing," Wilson responded. "I don't know if Kane is back. What I do know is that Nod is back, very likely with a vengeance. We've had over a dozen incidents in the past month. We've even seen some new kind of tank that Nod prisoners call 'Scorpions.' 'Course, that's out of y'all's news, I know, thanks to what happened in Columbia."

"Why'd you let that happen?" McNeil asked. "It took some extremely fast talking to keep some of those more…humanitarian-inclined from voting to pull the plug on the NAU government."

"Look, I knew Harker was an anti-Nod bigot, but I didn't know that he'd not only let a mob in the jail and let them take out the prisoners, but aid and abet in the matter, in addition to bringing out the old Tiberium barrels for them to be stuffed in, although," he stopped and looked down, and then up at McNeil, with a look like flint in his eyes, "I'm not sure how much I blame them. They will be tried, but McNeil, though you've been out here, you don't really know what it's like. Constantly worried about Tiberium brought by thunderstorms and hurricanes and who knows what else, and to top it all off, Nod soldiers putting Tiberium in the rivers to infect us all. Y'all don't know, McNeil, in the Blue Zones, what it's like in the Yellow Zones. We have nearly twenty million people in the area south of the Ohio, and they're getting desperate. We may have to evacuate Central Florida."

With an incredulous look, McNeil replied, "What? There's over a half-a-million people there"

"Yeah, I know. But we're losing in the Everglades. The Tiberium is moving a quarter-mile a day in some places. Which brings me to the second thing. We need equipment. Badly. We only have about a hundred sonic emitters in this area, and three-quarters of those are covering the Mississippi River. We need at least a hundred more to contain the Tiberium in Florida. As it is, we're just stemming the tide."

"I'm not sure if you'll get them."

"Anything would help. I mean literally anything y'all can send or do would help. Look, if GDI cleared out the area between Charlotte and the Pee Dee River, y'all would get enough manpower to equip at least another corps of infantry, at least. And that's good farmland, or was, before the Tiberium."

"Look, Wilson, if GDI clears out anywhere, we're likely going to clear your side of the Ohio River basin, down to the Tennessee."

"We'll take that," Thompson replied with a resigned hand gesture. "That'll get some more more folks in under GDI's umbrella, and maybe get folks more inclined towards y'all if they have some hope of bein' incorporated. And, speakin' of inclinations, McNeil, there is some pro-Nod sentiment, as there always has been, but it's rising. Slowly, in truth, but steadily. Some aid would definitely help—even just some technical manuals would help, even. There are idle factories all over the place down here.
"Best thing y'all could do would be to Blue Zone some land, I mean, even if you just cleared between the Ohio and the Tennessee, as you said, you'd get a lot more territory, which GDI needs, and badly. And, as to getting more territory, clearing out Northern Command, working from Alaska and the Northeastern seaboard, y'all could be done there in six months."

McNeil raised a hand. "I know, General, I know. But I have a question, off the record, and you'll not want to respond well to me asking something more of you and your people, but…"

"But what?"

"What kind of military forces could the NAU pull together if a Nod assault were to occur within the borders of the old US and Canada? Also, do you have any data about what's going on south of the border?"

"Whuuuuf," Wilson sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He thought for a moment, then looked up at McNeil. "I presume you know this place is swept?" When McNeil nodded, Wilson continued. "The Southeast Airborne Brigade could be flying anywhere in Zone B-7 within half an hour. The Southeast Mechanized Division, 1 brigade light armor and two mech infantry, could be moving in two hours. Two motor infantry divisions, 1 brigade mech infantry, 2 brigades infantry each, within six. Three infantry divisions, three brigades infantry each, twelve hours. That's it. And the last infantry division wouldn't be there for probably three days. After that?" Thompson shrugged. "I'm sorry, General, but we need to keep some front-line troops back here."

"What of the Great Lakes Command?"

"Krueger? He could probably put in a force about that size, maybe a little heavier. Maybe. As to Reynolds' Far West command, that's mostly mountain soldiers. Got some armor, but that's mostly in Old California, Arizona and New Mexico. They'll defend the Pacific areas, though. Harrison's Canadian plains? Weakest of the four. Will probably help support Alaska, but that's all you can hope for. All. And naval forces?" Thompson briefly snorted. "Me and Reynolds have the primary NAU navy. I've two old Nimitz-class carriers, four old Ticonderoga cruisers, about twelve old Arleigh Burke destroyers, and five even older Perry-class frigates. Got two old Ohio-class nuke subs, as well as four old Los Angeles-class attack subs. Then two brigades of Marines with full amphibious capability. Reynolds' got the same. As to air force, I got four squadrons, as does everyone else. And it's a struggle keeping those up and running. In essence, we can help, but…" Thompson shrugged. "It's not much."

"Maybe a little bit will be enough," McNeil replied.

"You think Nod's on the move, don't you," Wilson spoke, in a tone which made it a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, I do," McNeil stated flatly. "And Aztlan?"

"Aztlan?" Wilson snorted. "No naval or amphibious capability to speak of, corrupt leadership, a strike force of about three infantry divisions, and a three-squadron air force? If they jump to Nod's side, which we doubt, they'll be good for soaking up casualties or providing rear-area security. No more. If he decides to, Reynolds'll beat the tar out of 'em if they come a-knockin'."

"If he decides to," McNeil sighed, and leaned forward. "Which leads to the question—will you help?"

"Yes," Wilson replied after a moment's hesitation. "Yes, if for no other reason than y'all're better than Nod."

"Thanks. We'll need you."

"Yeah, I know." Thompson got up and opened the door, and McNeil got up and began to walk out, but Thompson put his hand on his shoulder as he left the office, and McNeil turned. "Just remember, Michael. Give and take does not mean that the NAU gives and GDI takes. It can't last forever."

"I know. I know," McNeil replied, and walked with a heavy tread down the hall to his waiting Ox.