Allowing the letter to drop down to his side, Thomas moved away from the window over to his desk. When he reached it he looked down at a plaque sitting off to one side. It was a simple mahogany block of wood upon which a set of shiny aviator’s wings was mounted. How much easier it would be, he found himself thinking, if I were nothing but a simple pilot again. Then he could leave all the heavy thinking to others, as he had during the war in the Gulf. Things, he mused, had been so easy back then.

Lifting the Adjutant General’s letter, he picked up where he had left off. “I have at my disposal two maneuver battalions supported by a couple of batteries of artillery, the two AH-64s that survived the air attack, and combat engineers. With these I can delay the advance of the Federal forces and even stop their advance for a while if I choose my ground well. But militarily, there is no way that we will be able to prevail. In the Twin Falls area alone I face six tank and mech infantry task forces, two reinforced self-propelled artillery battalions, an attack helicopter battalion, a cavalry squadron minus one ground troop, and two air assault infantry battalions. Added to this are electronic warfare units, electronic and signal intelligence units, and other combat support elements that I have no way of matching or countering. In the hands of a general with the skills and reputation that Dixon possesses, this force can go anywhere and do anything.

“Given the above facts, I have made several decisions that I am acting upon unless I receive orders from you to the contrary.” Here it comes, Thomas thought to himself. Saunders is creating legal wiggle room. “It is an unwritten rule that when a defender comes to the realization that defeat is inevitable, he does as little as possible to anger the attacker. After all, one cannot inflict crippling losses on a foe one moment and then expect mercy from him. Eventually my Guardsmen will have to lay down their arms and spend time as prisoners of war.” A shiver ran down Thomas’s spine. Turning his face away from the letter, he looked about the quiet, well-appointed office he had occupied for so long. Everything in this room was as it had been the day before. Everything spoke of power, authority, and dignity. The great seal of the state of Idaho hung on the wall behind his desk, just as it had the day he had walked into this office. These symbols, together with the media coverage and political posturing of the last few months, had hidden from him and his closest advisors just how shaky their state’s independence was. Even in the aftermath of the aborted assault of October 31, everyone, including Thomas himself, fancied that some sort of amiable accord could be reached with the Federal government.