Well, I've been having a number of problems with my computer and internet lately.

If ya'll have been keep up with the news than you know the Russian Federation is currently invading Georgia (the country, not the state). I had a nice picture on the front page of the Washington Post (my local paper) of a Georgian recovery/engineering vehicle being abandoned. I don't know about Canada or Europe, but from the US it looks bad. I'm not sure if we know why Russia is attacking… or if anyone knows, I first heard it over the weekend listening to the BBC World Service in my car.

And here's the second chapter folks. I'm kinda' making this up as I go long with only a rough idea of the details.

Only one chapter up and I get two reviews, eh? I was on chapter ten on my last story by the time someone left a review so thanks you asdf. You have been a loyal reader. And thank you to Knukkie. Glad you're having a good day because my have been pretty stressful. This has been a bit of a stress reliever for me and a creative outlet… and a way to improve my writing skills which have been my weakest area.

DarkBeastBoy, nice hearing from you again. Thanks for putting the sequel on you favorites.

Perrou, thanks for listing this story as your favorite too.

Lately between my commute from my home to the Holocaust Museum, where I've been volunteering for the summer, I've been brainstorming… and reading Cardinal in the Kremlin by Tom Clancy.

Can't believe I leave for college in a few weeks. This story might suffer a little while I start going to Target and Staples and finding the stuff my sister used when she was in college. That's the nice thing about having a big sister, she already has a number of things I need.

I don't own any trademarked or copywrite item. Please review and/or tell a friend.


Chapter 2: Let the Games Begin

"The truth will set you free."

Unofficial motto of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)

0600 Hours; February 7th, 2012; Perryville, Cecil County; State of Maryland, United States of America

Klara Soo-yong walked out of her house. It wasn't even light yet and she stumbled a little on her to her car. She was 31 and lived with her parents, but see wouldn't see them until close to 6:00 pm. In a small town like Perryville, families stayed close and it wasn't too unusual to live with your parents, especially when you wanted to make sure they were taking care of themselves. It wasn't like she was some college dropout living in her parent's basement. She graduated from MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology) and had a room in the third floor loft.

Perryville was a small town of less then 4,000 people just north of the Susquehanna River. Cecil County was on the north tip of the Chesapeake Bay were the Susquehanna and Elk Rivers met. Ships traveled up the Elk River to the Delaware Bay via the Delaware Canal that linked the Bay and the Elk River. Many of the people who passed through the town were either truck drivers stopping at the tollbooth on Interstate-95 that had a tollbooth outside of town. Others were people coming up the Pulaski Highway that cut through the county.

Perryville was the second largest town in the county after Elkton which was 19 miles north of them near the Delaware border. Perryville was also the only town in the county with a train station since the Pennsylvania Railroad went out of business in the 1970s.

She drove her car down to Port Deposit which was probably the smallest town in the county. It was on the north bank of the Susquehanna. The town was only one street wide, three streets at its widest. The reason was because the town was built between the river bank, a set of railroad tracks owned by CSX, and a cliff face over 100ft tall. If she continued up the road she'd reach the dam the controlled the flow of the Susquehanna. The people of Port Deposit were grateful for the dam because in the past the city had flooded repeatedly. There was even a picture of looked like a glacier forming in the middle of the town and taking out a few buildings.

A man round her age waited for her in front of a two-story house.

"Thanks Klara," said Robert Levine.

"When does your car get out of the garage?" she asked turning around and heading back to Perryville.

"A week," he said sighing. "God damn those kids. I hope they get more than community service."

Soo-yong shook her head. Cecil County was a small close net place. Elkton had a little over 11,000 people. Port Deposit wasn't even 700.

The Maryland Rail Commuter Service, known by its abbreviation MARC Train, serviced Perryville. The Penn Line was one of three train lines operated by MARC. It was there longest and busiest line. It operated more trains, moved more people, and made more money than the other two lines combined.

The station was owned by Amtrak, but Amtrak only had one regional train, the Regional #151, stop at Perryville. They accepted MARC ticket holders like Soo-yong and Levine.

They sat down on a bench in the cold morning air and waited for the next train. Perryville was as far north as MARC operated. A high speed Amtrak train raced by north bound for Willington, Delaware. This line was original built by the Pennsylvania Railroad for their trains running between New York and Washington DC. It was the business line on the East Coast.

A train finally arrived and came to a halt at Platform #1, which was the only platform. Levine and Soo-yong flashed their monthly passes to the conductor who scanned it and let them on. The train left the station and picked up speed as it crossed the massive steel bridge over the Susquehanna River and passed through Havre de Grace, a town roughly the same size as Perryville on the south bank and part of a different county. They slowed and stopped at the Aberdeen Station which was also owned by Amtrak, but got more Amtrak service. Aberdeen was home to the Aberdeen Proving Grounds, owned by the US Army. They made stops at Edgewood, Martin State Airport, Baltimore, West Baltimore, Halethorpe, Baltimore-Washington International Airport, Odenton, Bowie, and Seabrooke.

"New Carrollton, next stop is New Carrollton," announced a prerecorded voice over the PA system.

Levine and Soo-yong got off here. The train continued to its final stop at Washington DC Union Station where the other two MARC line converge and also met with Virginia Railway Express, a Northern Virginia commuter rail service. At New Carrollton they could board the Washington Metrorail's Orange Line.

Using their Metro Smartcards to avoid the hassle of buying tickets, they walked over to the silver and brown 8-car train that sat on the platform. An electronic screen said it would depart in 4 minutes. Some commuters were waiting for the train to depart reading newspapers or novels. After a few minutes they saw a man in a blue Metro uniform had for the front car. The door closing warning beep went off and a prerecorded voice said, "Doors closing."

"Good morning customers and welcome aboard, this is Orange Line to Vienna (1), next stop is Landover," said the man in a standard Metro greeting.

It was a normal day for them as they rode through Maryland, over the Anacostia River, and into Washington DC. After a while they were deep into Washington at L'Enfant Plaza, the busiest station on the Metro. Here the Blue and Orange Lines crossed paths with the Green and Yellow Lines. They got off and took an escalator upstairs to the Green and Yellow Line platforms (2).

A Green Line train was pulling out and a Yellow was coming in behind it. It was 8:00 in the morning and the station was packed with government workers and other commuters.

"Yellow Line train to Huntington," announced the PA speaker on the train as it stopped.

As it left the station the driver said in a bored monotone, "Next stop is Pentagon, first station in the Commonwealth of Virginia."

They exited the tunnel and into the open air on a bridge that spanned the frozen Potomac River. They caught a glimpse of the people stuck on the 14th Street and I-395 bridges in bumper-to-bumper traffic. It gave the Metro commuters a feeling of superiority to see they were on the move and their counter-parts in cars were honking away at the cars in front of them uselessly.

They were plunged back into darkness as the train went back underground.

"Pentagon Station, first stop in the Commonwealth of Virginia and transfer point to the Blue Line. Doors opening on your left (3)," announced the driver over the PA.

Soo-yong and Levine exited the train and headed up an escalator. They pulled out their security badges and exited the station. Pentagon Station was open to the public, but the entrance to the Pentagon required ID.

The immediate entrance and a lot of the halls weren't heavily protected. It actually looked like a food count from a shopping mall. There was even a MacDonald's.

Levine and Soo-yong's IDs didn't have names on it, but that wasn't unusual for people who worked in the Intelligence Community. It only had their pictures, a serial number, and the insignia of the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA).

They approached a door and tapped their badges against a scanner. Next they had to enter security number all before putting a key into the lock and opening the door.

"Morning Klara, Bobby," said Henry Martin, a co-worker of theirs. Martin lived in Fredericksburg, Virginia. He took the Virginia Railway Express to Crystal City where a government van picked up other commuters like him riding the VRE. Most people at the Pentagon or any government office didn't live in the District (4).

"Mornin' Harry," they said as they raced to the coffee maker. "Anything new?"

"Another message from Blue Star," said Martin holding up a file marked 'classified'. Blue Star was an unknown informant in the Kremlin. He, or she for all they knew, was giving them basic information on the Politburo. He never gave much information on the Politburo's rulings or secret meetings, but he did tell them about the people in it and how they interacted with each other or their relations. Because they didn't know who this guy was or why he was helping the US, all of his letters were run through the counter-intelligence community. A CIFA officer only known to them as Piney Creek was screening the letters and even profiled the man.

The informant was called Blue Star because that was the name signed to each letter.

"Dear Comrade," said Martin. Blue Star seemed to speak or at least write in English. "How are you today? Weather in the Motherland is quite cold, but I'm sure it is for you too. The Party is quite interested in up coming game. Priorities are safety for Western leaders. A Minister objected to your Comrades in Kosovo attending. Kosovo will not be able to attend if they aren't guests of someone other.

Do you, my Comrades, have female co-workers?"

They turned to look at Soo-yong and then looked back to the letter.

"Does she get treated like an equal or do you consider her appointment a joke and you are merely… what is word… humoring? Da, humoring her? I think Minister of Health feels that way. Minister of Transport think it funny joke. She hate him very much. Minister of Interior seem to be her friend though. He regards her as equal. So does Minister of Defense.

Minister of Foreign Affairs seems to be showing his stupidity more and more. Most ministers this bad are replaced by gooder candidates."

"Gooder isn't a word," said Levine.

"It's what he wrote," said Martin. He went back to reading. "I seen two ministers not as bad get replaced. Someone must have plans for him. The Politburo not keep stupid men unless they have good reason.

Until next time Comrades.

Your Friend,

Blue Star."

"More detailed than usual," said Soo-yong as she poured a second cup of coffee. "The CIFA thinks he's a guard or something. Why did he get this much info?"

"If the meeting was about that hockey game, then it wouldn't exactly be top secret, right?" said Levine.

"You never know with the Reds," said Soo-yong. "Nice to know Ivan doesn't want anything bad to happen."

"Blue Star says the Premier wants to make friends with the West so he has to make sure nothing bad happens. Someone like the Chechens might attack the game to embarrass the Russians," said Martin.

"Sounds a little extreme," said Levine sitting at his desk and booting up his computer. "Did you pass that on to the Director yet?"

"About 30 minutes ago," said Martin putting the letter in a file drawer.

"Is anything set?" asked Levine.

"For the President, most of that ain't our department," said Martin.

"She'll probably be bound for Andrews by now," said Soo-yong checking her watch. When ever the President or a major member of the federal government left the country the entire US Intelligence Community knew about it. The Air Force Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance Agency (AF ISR) would have the course plotted out. The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and Department of Homeland Security would make sure the President wouldn't be harmed while she was still in the US. The Office of Navy Intelligence (ONI) would make sure that the course over the Atlantic Ocean would be safe and a US or NATO ship would be somewhere nearby at any time. Army Military Intelligence (MI) would coordinate with the Europeans while the President passed over Europe. The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and DIA and the State Department's Bureau of Intelligence and Research (INR) would make sure the route to the US Embassy was secure before she even set foot in Moscow.

The Secret Service would protect her at given moment. The Counter-Intelligence Field Activity would be screening every known foreign agent or potential risk within the US Intelligence Community.

The National Security Agency (NSA) would be coordinating all the Department of Defense's intelligence services, which included the DIA that Levine, Soo-yong, and Martin worked for.

"She'll have boarded Marine One by now and be in transit," said Soo-yong. Marine One was the callsign for an Agusta-Westland VH-71 Kestrel. The Kestrels were new helicopters that replaced the Sikorsky VH-3D Sea King and VH-60N White Hawk (5) in 2010. Marine One would fly to Andrews Air Force Base located outside of Washington. President Crane and her staff, who would be transported separately for security reasons, would meet at Andrews. They would then be put on Air Force One, the callsign for a specially modified Boeing VC-747 that was the President's personal plane.

"So she'll refuel where?" asked Levine.

"Air Force won't share that information, but my guess would be near Rammstien," said Martin. Rammstien Air Force Base was a massive US owned base in Germany. It was probably the largest and most important facility to the US military in Europe.

"Okay, you two, we have other things to do," said Soo-yong. "Bob, call CIFA. We lost contact with an asset in Prague."

"What? But that's the third contact we lost in Czechoslovakia," said Levine.

"Yeah. That's why you should call the CIs. We can't have lost that many contacts in a month without a leak."

"On it."

"Harry, the Brits got some shots of known ex-IRA gunner runners meeting with Al-Qaeda members. They have someone at their Embassy, can you get someone on it while that lead is still fresh?"

"Sure, I'll call the CT (counter-terrorism) wing," said Martin picking up his phone. Soo-yong opened her mouth to add something, but Martin already knew what it was. "I'll make sure we get copies too."

"Okay," said she putting some files into a briefcase. "I'm meeting that CIA guy in 10. You need anything?"

"Make sure he gives you the Polaris File," said Martin and Levine together.


1130 Hours; February 7th, 2012; Yagami Elementary School, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan

"And that concludes today's lesson, for homework you are to complete problems 1-19 on page 324," said Tanakina Koze, Class 6-E's teacher. Unlike secondary schools, elementary school classes had one teacher who taught them everything. This made them very demanding jobs, but they only had to cover basics.

Mai tucked away her pre-algebra textbook into her schoolbag and then pull out her bento. She unwrapped the purple cloth that secured the metal container and also provided some insulation.

"Yo, Harima-san," said a voice next to her. Mai looked up to see Ichijou Kousuke (6), one of her classmates, take a seat at the desk next to her. Kousuke was one of Mai's few male friends. That seemed odd considering Mai's liking for military things and other interests that were normally of interest to boys. Mai didn't come across as a tomboy, she was quiet and in a way graceful in a way that was considered feminine. Traits not considered to be characteristics of a tomboy.

"Konnichiwa (good afternoon), Ichijou-kun," said Mai as she open her bento. Curry again? Oh well, she did like curry, but nearly as much as Kenji or Tenma's boyfriend, Karasuma Ooji.

"Pretty tough lessons, ne?" he asked while trying not to stare at her.

"Not really," said Mai. Math was pretty easy for her. So were languages, history, social studies, and physical education. Art and music were her weak areas. Mai couldn't help but be a little disappointed in herself when her adopted older brother and adopted-deceased-father were manga-kas.

"Eh? Damn you too smart, Harima-san," he said glaring at her. Mai only shrugged. Kousuke leaned back in his chair. Both of them and some of their other classmates were going through changes. Kousuke's voice was cracking at odd and embarrassing moments. Hair was appearing in some places he didn't know it would grow.

Mai too was changing. She'd just started having her periods two months ago. She remembered Kenji freezing and nearly passing out when she asked about the changes. Tenma had tried to be helpful, but her explanations didn't make sense because she used too many weird and confusing metaphors that Mai now realized didn't make sense. Yakumo was the one who'd told her about the changes that puberty was starting to bring… or at least as much as she could before her voiced died from embarrassment.

Kousuke looked at his classmate. She was very pretty. Mai didn't consider herself attractive, much less think about her appearance that often, but Kousuke did. He tried to get her attention, but Mai didn't seem to notice. Having a big sister, Kousuke knew better than to get her attention by harassing Mai or being mean to her.

"I just don't get it. How do know what the X is equal to?" he asked rhetorically.

"Easy. If the first problem you subtract 5 and then add it to 11. So X is equal to 16."

"You can do that?" he asked staring at the variable on his homework.

"That's the whole idea, Ichijou-kun," said Mai rolling her green eyes. She finished eating and pulled out a book. Kousuke looked over at the title and found he couldn't read it.

"What language is that in?" he asked pointing to the cover.

"Hanguk-eo," she said.

"Nani?"

"Korean. The characters are called Hangul. It's unique to Korea," she said pointing to circular characters that were extremely different from Kanji, Katakana, and Hiragana, the three Japanese writing scripts. Kousuke kept forgetting Mai was not Japanese, but was born in the Republic of (South) Korea.

"So where are you from exactly?" trying to make conversation.

"Pusan. It's a big port city on the southern coast."

"So… what was your life like over there?" he asked. Kousuke didn't know any other foreigners and was wondering what it was like.

"Not too different from Japan. Just the culture and language. Schools were completive like here. Rural areas were a little slow, but that's true here too. Online video gaming was so huge they had their own TV channels (7). I went to school, had friends…" her voice trailed off.

"Uh, you still have friends," said Kousuke quickly.

"Yi, Seo, Choi, Sung-hi…"

"Shinhachi-san, Tennouji-san," added Kousuke reminding Mai of her Japanese friends. "Besides, they have to be somewhere, ne? They can't just disappear completely."

Mai looked at him and titled her head to the side. Kousuke wondered if she was doing this to torture him or if she really didn't know how cute she looked when she did that. She seemed to be considering him. After a few seconds of Kousuke struggling not to blush, Mai smiled… which made it even for Kousuke not to blush.

"You're a good friend, Ichijou-kun," she said sweetly.

"Iē, zenzen (no, it was nothing)," he said looking away from her. Lunch ended soon after and they went back to class.

Four 45-minute periods later school let out. Mai was on cleaning duty today and started cleaning the windows while other classmates cleaned the desks, chalkboard, or swept the floor. Japanese students did a lot of the cleaning and some of the grounds keeping to teach them responsibility and hard work. It also discouraged vandalism and littering when they were the ones who often have to clean it up. An actually janitor would clean the halls and bathrooms and do most of the grounds keeping.

Mai headed down to the lockers in the front entrance. She got out her street shoes. She made sure her wool coat and scarf that were part of winter uniform to add to the long-sleeve blazer.

It was snowing again. She walked outside and headed home like any normal 12-year-old. Japan was a relatively safe country. Children could walk down the streets unattended. Most police officers didn't carry guns. Police officers in Japan spent most of their time helping lost tourists or writing tickets. The highlights of their days were usually chasing shoplifters.

She was passing some stores. If she knew her big brother as well as she did than he was probably in the area. These stores sold manga and manga products. There was also a store that specialized in selling products for manga-kas like Kenji. Sure enough, he was inside one of the manga stores reading a… a shoujo manga?

She entered the store and walked up to him. "Onii-chan, what are you reading?"

"Huh? Oh, Mai-chan. Just researching," he said. He was looking over a wedding scene.

"For Nii-chan's wedding?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," he said nodding.

"Don't you think there are actually books for this?"

He turned to stare at her. Even with his sunglasses on she could tell he had that wide-eye expression of dawning comprehension.

A few minutes later they were heading home. Kenji had decided to walk, so his bike was at home.

Mai sighed. Boys could be well meaning like her brother, but they could also be extremely stupid. At least some of them tried to be nice.


1748 Hours; February 8th, 2012; Khodynka Arena, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic

Ledovy dvorets sporta na Khodynskom polye, or Ice Sport Palace on the Khodynka, was a huge multi-purpose indoor center that was opened on December 15, 2006. While it could be used for a number of purposes, it was primarily used for ice related events like ice hockey. The arena could seat 14,500 people.

A few employees were finishing up cleaning and smoothing out the rink. A few referee from International Ice Hockey Federation (IIHF) HQ in Zürich, Switzerland were already on the ice and making sure everything was ready.

On one side was the rink were about 20 men in blue uniforms with red stripes and white helmets. On their jerseys in red, white, and blue were the letters "USA" for United States of America. Opposite them were men in red uniforms with some yellow. On their white helmets was a red star. On the jersey in yellow was "CCCP" for Союз Советских Социалистических Республик (Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik).

Above the stands in the VIP (Very Important Person) boxes were world leaders. United States President Michelle Crane was seated in the largest and most lavish box. Beside her was her husband, Christopher John Crane. Also with them were her 16-year-old daughter, Ellen Mary Crane, and her 12-year-old son, Jeffery Elliot Crane. Also with President Crane was Vice-President Harold Craig Graham, Secretary of State Nicolas Spinoza, Senior Advisor to the President Amy Helen Robertson, Secretary of Defense Edward Jan Ruysdael, and their respective families.

Sharing the box was General-Secretary Josef Ivanovich Penovaski, Minister of the KGB Nikolai Semyonovich Nevsky, Marshal of the Soviet Union (Minister of Defense) Anatoly Pavelovich Nergetov, Minister of Interior Vladimir Eduardovich Alekseyev, head of the GRU Colonel-General Andrei Vasilyevich Grishin, and the rest of the Politburo.

All the Americans were dressed in black, grey, or dark-blue suits. Nergetov as head of the Soviet Red Armed Forces wore a military uniform. So did Grishin who was in charge of military intelligence and special operations. Nevsky too had a uniform, but the KGB uniform was a green to the military's khaki-greenish color uniform. Some General-Secretaries had worn military style uniforms, but Penovaski wore a black suit knowing it would look better to the Western leaders.

In neighboring boxes where heads of state and high officials from Germany, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Belgium, Denmark, Italy, Spain, Canada, Portugal, France, Austria, Greece, Turkey, Japan, and Albania. The Kosovar leaders were sitting with the Albanians. Also there were leaders from the USSR: Russia, Poland, Ukraine, Romania, Czechoslovakia, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Belarus, Hungary, Armenia, Bulgaria, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan.

The stands were filled with people from the across the Soviet Union, Western Europe, North America, and Eastern Asia, namely Japan.

"Comrades of the Glorious Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic, please rise for the singing of the United States and Soviet national anthems," announced a man over the loudspeakers in a booming voice in Russian. The non-Russian speaking spectators had earphones on with a translator speaking into it.

As the guests, the US National Anthem, the Star-Spangled Banner.

The opening notes were played by a brass-band and the American crowd bellowed out:

"Oh! Say can you see

By the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed

At the twilight's last gleaming.

Whose broad stripes and bright stars

Through the perilous fight

O'er the ramparts we watched

Were so gallantly streaming.

And the rockets red glare

The bombs bursting in midair

Gave us proof through the night that was flag was still there

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!"

Next, the Soviets bellowed out in Russian the Hymn of the Soviet Union:

"Soyuz nerushimy respublik svobodnykh (Unbreakable union of freeborn republics)
Splotila naveki velikaya Rus' (Great Russia has welded forever to stand)!
Da zdravstvuyet sozdanny voley narodov (Created in struggle by will of the people)!
Yediny, moguchy Sovetsky Soyuz (United and might, our Soviet land)!

(Chorus)

Slavsya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye (Sing to the Motherland, home of the free)

Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot (Bulwark of peoples, in brotherhood strong)!

Partiya Lenina - sila narodnaya (Oh! Party of Lenin! The strength of people).

Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot (To Communism's triumph lead us on)!

Skvoz' grozy siyalo nam solntse svobody (Through tempests the sunrays of freedom have cheered us)
I Lenin veliky nam put' ozaril (Along the new path where great Lenin did lead)!
Na pravoye delo on podnyal narody (To a righteous cause he raised up the people)
Na trud i na podvigi nas vdokhnovil (Inspired them to labor and valorous deed)!

(Chorus)

Slavsya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye (Sing to the Motherland, home of the free)

Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot (Bulwark of peoples, in brotherhood strong)!

Partiya Lenina - sila narodnaya (Oh! Party of Lenin! The strength of people).

Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot (To Communism's triumph lead us on)!

V pobede bessmertnykh idey kommunizma (In the victory of Communism's deathless ideal)
My vidim gryadushcheye nashey strany (We see the future of our dear land)
I krasnomu znameni slavnoy otchizny (And to her fluttering scarlet banner)
My budem vsegda bezzavetno verny (selflessly true, we always shall stand)!

(Chorus)

Slavsya, Otechestvo nashe svobodnoye (Sing to the Motherland, home of the free)

Druzhby narodov nadyozhny oplot (Bulwark of peoples, in brotherhood strong)!

Partiya Lenina - sila narodnaya (Oh! Party of Lenin! The strength of people).

Nas k torzhestvu kommunizma vedyot (To Communism's triumph lead us on)!

The Soviet anthem was a little bit longer. The American anthem was actually three verses longer, but they longer sang the first verse.

Six players on each team went out onto the ice. One goalie, three forwards, and two backs. A ref in a black and white striped uniform sailed out onto the ice. He held up a black puck above his head with a whistle between his lips. He looked between the American and Russian forward-centers and then the wingmen. He dropped the puck and quickly got out of the way as he blew a quick blast on his whistle.

Hockey was a rough sport. American players were usually professional players from college or national teams. The Russians were actually Red Army soldiers.

Prime Minister of the Federation of Japan, Aokami Shin, wondered if the padding the players wore was sufficient for the impact of their collision. Japan too had a team in the IIHF, but he didn't follow the came closely. Baseball and football (soccer) were to major sports in Japan. Prime Minister Aokami was surrounded by security in black suits. His Minister of Defense, Minister of Foreign Affair, Chief Cabinet Secretary, and their family members.

Prime Minister Aokami was companied by his wife, Aokami Kyoko. His son and daughter had decided to stay in Japan.

"Is that legal?" asked Kyoko seeing one of the Russian players knock out the feet of one of the American players.

"I guess so. The official doesn't seem to be doing anything so it must be," said the Prime Minister.

"Goal!" shouted the announcer to a roar of applause from the Soviets. "The match is now 1-0, Mother Russia!"

The Russians once again to custody of the puck and barreled down on the American goalie. One of the defensemen who plowed into the Russian with the puck and sent it to the left wingman. The Russian center and right wingman charged for the American who passed it to the American center just in time to be crushed between the Russians. The American center charged forward skirting the left defenseman, but got blocked by the right defenseman. He passed it to the right wingman who managed to get passed the goalie and shoot.

"Goal. 1-1, not tied," said the announcer much less enthusiastically than before. The Americans spectators cheered.

"A rough sport, da (yes)?" asked General-Secretary Penovaski to President Crane in English.

"Yes. It is a common joke in my country that hockey players are often missing teeth," said President Crane conversationally. She noticed the Minister of the KGB observing her and knew she was being sized up. The CIA and NSA had warned to be wary of Nevsky and do not appear weak in front of him. She wondered if she should have brought the director of the CIA with her for show. Then again, she doubted that would intimidate Minister Nevsky.

"I don't much like him either," said Penovaski quietly so only Crane could hear. That had taking her by surprise.

'So the intelligence was right, they do hate each other… or Premier Penovaski hates him and Nevsky doesn't give a shit,' wondered President Crane.

He doesn't smile noted President Crane. Why? She had been briefed about what he was like complete with a few photos. The man was just as scary as the KGB. He kept his face stoic because any other expression tended to frighten people. She couldn't help but notice his odd twitching-like movements. What had happened to Penovaski to make him like this?

Penovaski also was taking notes. She was small and petite, not considered active by Russian standards, but Americans were different that way. She was older than him and had a family of her own. She was running a country and an election campaign while raising a son and daughter? She didn't seem like much from a distance, but up close she was radiating a presence. She thought of her people, something he respected. She worked very well with other heads-of-state, something he was still learning. He could see she disliked Nevsky.

Menzhinsky was cheering loudly, much to the embarrassment of his fellow ministers. Some of the Americans found his an entertaining sight. Penovaski wanted so badly to get rid of Menzhinsky and replace him with his candidate, but he couldn't generate enough support in the Politburo to vote him off. He couldn't use the GRU to eliminate him and the KGB wasn't going to help. He wondered what Nevsky wanted with Menzhinsky. If the KGB wanted to influence Soviet foreign policy, it couldn't be good.


2000 Hours; February 8th, 2012; Tsukamoto Residence, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan

Like most nights at this time, the Tsukamotos and Harimas were seated in front of the TV with some tea and a snack as they watched Three Who Got Slashed, an Edo Era samurai drama.

Kenji was reading a book called 'Wedding Planning for Dummies' that he and Mai bought at a local book store.

"I don't get this," he said. He understood that under Japanese Federal Law, a couple must go to his or her local government office and fill out a form. This had to be done or the marriage wouldn't be recognized by the government and any tax benefits, or other legal benefits with marriage, would be denied until the form was submitted.

Knowing Haruki, he guessed he would prefer a traditional wedding. He was also assured Mikoto shared this sentiment by Mikoto and her parents.

"Don't these people know who they're dealing with?" he asked himself out loud. He was not a wedding planner.

"Kenji, daijōbu (are you alright)?" asked Yakumo.

"Hai," said Kenji dully.

"Kenji-kun, don't they have people who can plan wedding for you?" asked Tenma with her mouth half full with a cookie. Kenji stared at her for a second and then ran to get the phonebook.


2011 Hours; February 8th, 2012; Khodynka Arena, Moscow; Moscow Oblast, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic; Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic

"It is now 2-1, Mother Russia," said the announcer. Both teams were pretty up an aggressive defense.

The Russians had the puck and were charging in on the American goalie. There was only two minutes left.

In a desperate move, the American center tripped up the Russian and passed it on to the left wingman. They then moved into a criss-crossing pattern to confuse the Russian defensemen who were gliding backwards waiting for an opening. It seemed surprising such big Red Army soldiers could move so gracefully. They weren't paying attention to the right wingman who was circling from behind the goal.

"20 seconds on the clock and the Americans are in possession of the puck. They are advancing on the goal, but have no opening."

The Russian goalie foolish moved away from the goal leaving a gap. The American center grinned widely and shot it to the left wingman who sent the puck around the defensemen. The right wingman swooped in from behind the goal and sent the puck into the exposed goal.

"Goal, America. 2-2, tie," said the announcer making to attempt to hide his disappointment.

The American translator was screaming for joy so loudly that many of the American and English-speaking spectators had to turn down the volume their headphones. A buzzer blared and a ref blew his whistle signaling the end of the game.

"It was a good game, Comrade Premier," said President Crane in English. She spoke no Russian.

"Da, both sides played well," agreed General-Secretary Penovaski. He didn't correct the American calling him 'Premier' that most Westerners said instead of 'General-Secretary'.

"If only we can settle our differences with this. Even this level of violence is a step up armed conflict," said President Crane. She wondered who would clean the blood off the ice from when a player had collided into the safety glass.

"Da. I hope you have enjoyed your brief visit to the Motherland, Comrade President," Penovaski shaking hands with his American counter-part.

"I just hope you'll enjoy your visit to the United States," said President Crane. To be honest, she wasn't sure if the Soviet leaders as high as the Politburo had visited the US. Well, Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev had visited President Ronald Wilson Regan in Camp Davis for peace talks, but she wasn't sure about any others.

While they hadn't talked much, they had met each other and had a chance to get a feel for each other. That was a good start. Dialog could come later. There was no point in rushing US-Soviet relations.


1400 Hours; February 8th, 2012; Seattle University, Seattle; Washington State, United States of America

A small group of students were seated around a table in the student union building.

"I don't get it, I mean what the hell is the opposite form of government of federalism?" demanded a frustrated Emma.

"Confederacy," Jack and Jason together without looking up at her.

"How so?" she asked annoyed they knew the answer like their names.

"A federalist government has multiple states or provinces with a strong central government that is the ruling body of the nation. A confederate government has strong individual power in the state/provincial governments with a weak central government that has limited ruling authority," said Jason Erich Maiwald, Jack's best friend and second in command, not that she knew that. Emma only knew they worked together and so did Maya Sakura Solomon, Jack's cousin.

Maya was picking bacon off her hamburger that she bought at the cafeteria. "I told those jackasses I'm Jewish. Don't they get I can't eat anything that comes from a pig?!"

Maya was half-Hispanic, half-Japanese. She could easily pass herself off as either, though she was a little darker than most Japanese. Still, Maya had claimed to be from Okinawa in a past assignment.

"People don't always get it, Maya," said Jack frowning a little at the insensitivity of some to others religions. Kinda' like people didn't know the difference between a Buddhist and Shinto.

"Besides, what makes you so sure that burger is really from a cow?" asked Jason. Maya frowned, but shrugged. Most Americans didn't like to question what their food was made of after they paid for it. Sometimes the answers were even a little frightening and left them wondering what the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) was doing.

"Hey, Emma!" said a woman approaching the table. "Did you hear? Party at Billy's house, lots of cute guys!"

"I have a guy," said Emma pointing to Jack who was ignoring the conversation.

"Oh, you two are still going out?" she asked blankly. Emma sighed and held up her hand showing the engagement ring. Without looking up from the 'History of Communist Russia' textbook, Jack held up his hand too.

"So like fun though, right Jack?" said Emma. Jack grunted. Emma smiled and nodded to her friend. The girl looked at Jack as though he was an interesting display, but he ignored her.

Jack was not famous for being social. He rarely talked to other people unless spoken too. He didn't make eye contact often. He hated crowds and loud noises. But he loved Emma and found himself dragged to one party after another… well it was only like once or twice a month, but more than he liked. Jack spent years in the military and covert operations.

He was different from average college students. To a student, a quad was a courtyard surround by four buildings and was a place to hang out. To Jack, a quad was a four-barrel weapon like a ZPU-4 or ZSU-23-4 Shilka. To a student, OMG was an appreciation for 'oh my god' and normally sent in the form of a textmessage. To Jack, OMG was an Operations Maneuvering Group that were the main assault groups of the Red Army. To a student, a linebacker was part of an American football team. To Jack, a Linebacker was a mobile-AA variation of the M2A2 Bradley IFV. Jack could write a book full of these things.

He made no comment though. He didn't want Emma to know how painful the experience was to him. People who were sure he worked for the CIA, which wasn't true since he worked for the CIFA, would ask him all kinds of questions that weren't even relevant to a real spy agency. People talking about things that just proved all kinds of negatives about Americans.

An hour later, Jack was sitting in Emma's car. She drove a silver four-door BMW. It was simple enough and had decent fuel efficiency and looked good for business purposes. Jack didn't say a thing, but that wasn't unusual for him.

He approached the front gate of the Shinhachi Clan's compound which was surrounded by a tall Asian-style wall. Emma entered the security number and slid her keycard in and out of the slot. The gate opened and she drove in.

Jack wondered off somewhere by himself.

More than once he thought about his problems. His parents didn't talk to each other much. They had hardly been a part of his life. He wondered why. Jack couldn't help but notice there was an 11 year age difference between him and his sister. Kathy was 33 and had two kids. Why the wait for a second child? The answer was obvious, they never intended to have him. That thought came to him when he was 13. After that had never started talking less and less. He broke off contact from nearly everyone. Only Jason, Maya, and Kathy had been there for him. But Kathy had left home for Harvard Law School when he was 8.

A froze for a moment. Someone was behind him. His training and experience were the only things that allowed him to detect the nearly silent person. He slowly shifted his hand for the hostile hidden under his jacket. The H&K USP .45 Compact was attach to his waistband…

"You won't need that, Jack," said Emma.

"You know what a bad idea it is to sneak up behind me?" he asked.

"You okay? I know you like the snow and cold, but is it really a good idea to be out?" she asked. "Come on, I'll make tea."

Quietly, Jack was led to the house. He met Emma the same year he started to shut down socially. She had seemed like a spoiled rich girl who was destined for trouble. He had saved her ass once a year later when she was caught in possession of an illegal drug. He'd learned not too long before he was an accomplished liar and good at manipulating people. He wasn't sure why he helped Emma, but he did. He'd only felt contempt for her and been entirely indifferent to her situation.

He never knew why she approached him later, but she did. She was a girl as lost and numb as him. They slowly developed a friendship that no one understood. It was odd, Emma shared Jack's contempt for spoiled and arrogant ways of teenagers and college age students, but she could interact with them in ways Jack couldn't bring himself to stand. Jack could however handle political and military people… though he was one of them. He grew up in a family of government workers so he had dealt with politicians and soldiers his whole life.

Jack sat down at the kitchen table. "Thanks, Emma."

She smiled sweetly, knowing he was thanking her for more than the tea.

"Just try to have fun. You can even think of it as a mission if it helps."

'Who do you think I am? We'll maybe a change of mind set would help,' he thought to himself. 'So how would I prepare for this party?'


1000 Hours; February 9th, 2012; Sagamihara Air Base, Sagamihara; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan

"What do you think, sir?" asked Second Lieutenant Kugashi Nobuyuki.

"Look nice, don't they?" asked Captain Nara Kentaro.

Mitsubishi Heavy Industries years ago had obtained the rights from the US aircraft company, McDonnell-Douglas, to build the F-15C Eagle, known as the F-15J in Japan. Six months ago Mitsubishi bought the rights to the upgrade pack for the Eagles. The US Air Force was upgrading their standard Eagles to the F-15G Super Eagle. This model feature supercruise, which meant the plane could fly at supersonic speeds without afterburners. It also had a 25mm Gatling gun instead of the old 20mm Vulcan. While it had less ammo, it had much longer range.

There were nine active squadrons across Honshu that flew F-15s. Two in Hokkaido, one in Shikoku, and three in Kyushu. There was also one in Okinawa. One was at the Dover Air Force Base and training with USAF pilots. It would join a second squadron at Rammstein AFB who were training with the Luftwaffe and Royal Air Force (RAF) (8).

Nara and Kugashi had gone overseas to fly with the mighty German and other NATO top guns.

The 201st Fighter Squadron, or White Fox Squadron, was only the second fighter squadron to get the Super Eagle. The 7 squadrons flying the F-2s, a plane that resembled the F-16, were also getting some upgrades.

There were 24 active fighter squadrons in the Japanese Federal Air Force, 28 active fighter-bomber squadrons, 5 bomber squadrons, 7 Wild Weasel squadrons, 8 electron warfare squadrons, 17 auxiliary/support squadrons, and 30 transport squadrons.

As for the Naval Air Force, under the command of the Japanese Federal Navy, each carrier had two F-14D squadrons, six F-18E squadrons, at least two E-2 Hawkeyes, and four S-2 Sea Vikings. That at least for the Sutsuru Class, but the smaller Ryūsu Class only was reduced by two squadrons.

Air Force were also upgrading their C-3 transport planes that were based on the US's C-17. The F-4 Phantoms flown by the Wild Weasels were being replaced by a variation of the F-15 that had its 20mm gun removed and replaced by SAM/search-radar dictators. The Federal Air Force was Japan's first line of defense and first striking power. Whoever wasn't destroyed or discouraged by the air attacks would face the Federal Navy.

Nara examined the Super Eagle up close. It used fuel more efficiently, something Japan was obsessed with. It had many environmental improvements including fewer emissions. It had the military advantages of longer range. Carbon emissions were hot when they came out of the plane, or car, so it was easy for heat sensors to pick up and lock-on to.

"This is supposed to out perform the Su-27 and MiG-29," said Nara. The newer Soviet planes like the Su-35, Su-37, and Su-47 were still more maneuverable, but they were rare.

"It's evenly matched with the Foxhound, right?" asked Kugashi.

"So I heard from the techs," said Nara with a shrug. The MiG-31 Foxhound wasn't used by the People's Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF) that they fought in the Korean War, so they had only encountered Foxhounds in virtual simulations of Soviet Red Air Force pilots.

"Get Gatou and Takemoto, we're taking Flight 2 into the air and see how they handle."

"Roger that, Captain," said Kugashi.


1800 Hours; February 9th. 2012; local residence, Belfast; Northern Ireland, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

A man with reddish hair got out of car in front of a house and looked around the street. No one was around as far as he could tell and he walked up the front walk. He pulled out a set of keys and opened the door.

It looked innocent enough to a man with dark brown hair who was watching from a house across the street, but he knew better.

Inside the house the man headed into the basement and knocked on the door.

"It's me," he said. The door opened.

"Well, laddy? What did they say?" asked an older man. There were three men in the room sitting in front of a table with one AK-47, two Uzis, and a sawed-off Regiment 870 shotgun with pistol grip.

"We're ready to go. Jumble won't know what hit 'im this time," laughed the man.

They packed up their guns and a radio. They headed upstairs and out the door.

"I'm gonna' miss this place. As safehouses go this was the nicest," commented one of the men. They reached the car and was about to open the door when two vans raced around the corner and came to a screeching halt in front of them. The doors popped open and 8 men and women leaped out of each van dressed in black uniforms and carrying H&K MP-5s.

"Police, on the ground now!" shouted the British security agents. The four Irishmen completely stunned dropped their bags with weapons inside and held up their hands.

"You fucking wankers are under arrest," said an agent shoving one of the Irishmen against the car.

"For wha'?" demanded the man.

"For conspiring to commit an act of terrorism," he said throwing them into a third van. In three minutes they were gone.

After several hours in London, England…

"His name is Sean Lassiter, member of Irish People's Liberation Army," said Phillip Bromley, a Secrete Intelligence Service (SIS) agent, to his senior Joshua Michelson.

"Never heard of it," said agent Michelson.

"It's a relatively new group, one of many created after the ceasefire with the IRA (Irish Republican Army) at in 2006," said Bromley reading from a file. "This was going to be their first major attack, but they bought explosives from an arms dealing group in Germany last year. GSG-9 arrested the arms dealers and faxed us a client list. We tailed one of their known members and followed him to their safehouse last night. No shots fired. Nice and clean, sir."

"Anything else?" asked Michelson watching Lassiter from behind the one-way window. Lassiter was alone in the interrogation room.

"The bugger claims he's an American citizen and won't recognize Her Majesty's laws and justice," said Bromley with a laugh.

"He what? Does he really believe the Yanks will protect a terrorist? They'll sever any ties with the man," said Michelson. "Guess I talk to him."

Michelson entered the windowless room and took a seat across from Lassiter at the metal table in the middle of the room. "Top of the morning, Mr. Lassiter. I'm Agent Josh Michelson of the SIS. You understand the charges before you? Do you want a solicitor?"

"I don't want no stinkin' lawyer. Get me someone from the US Embassy!" demanded Lassiter.

Michelson raised an eyebrow, "So, you want me to call the Americans and tell them a terrorist wants their protection? The United States and United Kingdom have extradition treaties. We have every right to prosecute you. Besides, do you even have a valid US Passport or some kind of identification to prove you're a citizen of the US?"

"I know something they might find interesting," he said with a sinister smile.

"They won't want to come down based on that. Give me a hint at what you know and I'm sure I'll be able to have someone here by the afternoon."

"You know we don't train in Ireland. We trained in the Balkans and we know some guys who would really interest anyone who wants Kosovo's leaders to see the end of summer."

It was a few seconds before Michelson realized his mouth was hanging open. He slowly left the room and made a call to a colleague in the British Embassy in Priština, Kosovo. Next he called the US Embassy and asked for them to send someone over immediately with a brief explanation of what was happening.


1015; February 9th, 2012; Downtown, Yagami; Kanagawa Prefecture, Federation of Japan

Kenji slipped off his bike and looked at the address. It appeared to be the right place. He checked a sign on the front that said the business had been looking for was on the third floor. After scaling the stairs he was at a door a sign that read: Ugedi's Wedding Planning.

"Is anyone there?" asked Kenji as he entered the room.

"Irasshaimase (welcome)!" screamed a woman from behind Kenji.

"Gah!" shouted Kenji who instinctively reached for his hip for a gun or knife didn't have on him before common sense told him he was not under attack.

"Did I scare you?" asked the woman childishly. She was short with wide brown eyes and long green hair. She reminded Kenji of someone. "Oh my, well aren't you a handsome man."

"Uh, arigato," said Kenji who didn't notice the way she was eyeing him. "I'm Harima Kenji. Am I in the right place, are you Ugedi-san?"

"Iē, but I work for her," she said happily. Her eyes widen and she seemed to sag a little as she asked worriedly, "Are you getting married?"

"Me? Iē, I'm just the best man. So, what do we do?" he asked not noticing the woman perking up again upon hearing he wasn't getting married.

"Well first, I'm Tsukino Rie. You can call me Rie-chan. First a very important question."

"Sure, Rie-san," said Kenji not noticing the flirtiest smile.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Any idiot could see this had nothing to do with a wedding and realize Tsukino's intentions, but Kenji wasn't just any idiot.

"Hai, for about a year and two months."

The woman deflated again, but bounced back. 'We'll see about that. These big dumb ones are so easy to manipulate.'

While Kenji thought he was finally getting somewhere and totally oblivious to the situation before him, Tsukino plotted away. She could tell by the markings on his leather jacket that he was a veteran of the war. She wondered what sad excuse for a woman was wasting his time.

Meanwhile, at Sagamihara University, Tsukamoto Yakumo vaguely sensed something was wrong, but being in the middle of class she put it out of her mind. Even if something happened to Kenji, she knew he was either too strong or too dim-witted for something bad to happen.


I can't say I'm good at writing romance, but having an older sister who was a major part of my life led me to watch a number of romantic-comedies. I actually I kinda' grew to enjoy them, but who doesn't? Actually don't answer that.

Right now I'm just having plain good old American fun… that doesn't involve a shotgun, beer, or contact sports (because I don't drink, play sports, or own a gun… even if it would be easy and legal for me own a gun in my state).

Some of you are probably wondering where the war comes in… me too… I have some vague ideas, but I want to come up with a good solid reason both sides go to war. That takes time to set up. In the meantime I have a few ways to keep any desires for action satisfied. Remember with fictional war I mentioned in the last story? Well, I think I'm going to do some kind of flashback.

Respectfully

J. H. Kamiya

Appendix

1. Vienna is the capital of Austria, but there is also a city called Vienna in Fairfax County, Virginia. Metro trains indicate the direction they are bound in by their final destination.

2. If you're wondering why I know all this it's because I'm a resident of Northern Virginia. To get to the Holocaust Museum I take the Metro. L'Enfant Plaza is not a fun place to be at rush hour. Nor is Gallery Place-Chinatown and Metro Center. The three are the busiest stations in DC because all five (currently existing) lines converge on those three stations.

3. Yeah, I know. I ride this line so often I subconsciously memorized the announcements. This is exactly what a driver says. It various sometimes, but it's normally the same.

4. Most residents of the DC area call Washington DC either: the District, DC, or Washington. If you live within range of one of the Metro stations you are considered a resident of the DC Area which includes Northern Virginia, the District of Colombia, and Southern Maryland.

5. V is the designation for VIP units. VC is a VIP transport plane like Air Force One. VH is a VIP helicopter like Marine One. VH-3 is a variation of the standard Marine Corps/Navy SH-3 Sea King. The VH-60N White Hawk is a variation of the standard Marine Corps/Navy SH-60 Sea Hawk and Army UH-60 Black Hawk. A variation of the VH-71 Kestrel is being considered for standard US military service.

6. Some of you may be familiar with Ichijou Kousuke as Ichijou Karen's younger brother. He first made an appearance when Karen was walking home from work with Lala Gonzalez. From what little I can gather about him, he is a big fan of Dojibiron, a Power Ranger's spin off. He actually is friends with Imadori Kyousuke who is a fellow fan, despite being several years Kousuke's senior. He also might be a soccer player because in the first scene he appears he is kicking a soccer ball around with some degree of skill.

7. Online video gaming it so big in the Republic of Korea that it is practically considered a professional sport. It is my understand that you can find broadcasted games on TV such as Halo and Battlefield 2. According to my search, Starcraft is huge and is definitely broadcasted on TV.

8. The Royal Air Force, or RAF, is the air corps of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It is one of the oldest air forces in the world, being created during World War I with the French Air Force and Luftwaffe. The RAF's mainstay fighter is currently the EF-2000 Typhoon and a fighter version of the Tornado. The RAF has purchased 150 F-35s along with the Royal Naval Air Force.