"Whether in a panic or not, most people take the route that is easiest for their muscular and skeletal structure. For children aged one to six, that route is usually uphill; children from seven to twelve tend to traverse a hillside; and those over twelve generally travel downhill unless some other route is obviously easier." --Tom Brown's Field Guide to Nature Observation and Tracking "That's just wonderful." Most Holy was in his office, talking to himself as he typed away at the keyboard. The text on the screen was scrolling by, warning messages mostly, ending with the particularly helpful error, "make: *** [modules] Error 2". He was busy trying to recompile a linux kernel to add in support for a GPS scanner that R&D had sent up to him. It was their latest enhancement, allowing (in theory) the data reported by the scanner to be transfered to a computer, where the acompanying software ("if I can get /that/ to compile", he grumbled) would allow it to be manipulated along with a set of topographical maps, making the logistics of running such a complex JAO more efficient. At the moment, however, it was anything but efficient. "Well, let's see what the documentation says," Most Holy said to himself. He took out a folder marked "M.A.U.L. GPS Interface v.0.99" and began to read to himself. "Cutting edge technology... revolutionize this and that... released under M.A.U.L. Public Licence... GNU gcc 2.7.2 ... ah. There's the problem." Since he had upgraded his C compiler suite to egcs, he had experienced a couple problems of this sort, with code expecting the older gcc. This would take a while to fix- "Sir?" There was a Sergeant standing in the doorway. "Yes, Sergeant?" "I have a report on that new Rouge Squadron, like you asked for, Sir." "Put it on my desk, then go beat up the R&D department and get me more coffee, dammit, I'll be out in a few minutes." "But the pot is almost full, Sir..." "Exactly." The Sergeant left, a little confused probably, and Most Holy decided to take a look at the report. He read to himself, as usual. "The Rouge Squadron purports to use cutting edge technology... revolutionize despongification in such and such... licenced to operate in the Midwest... deal with Microsoft to run WindoN'T.. geez. Do these bureaucrats all write the same way?" He drank some coffee. "Sir?" Another Sergeant was standing in his doorway, woefully unequipped with coffee. "Where's my coffee, dammit?" "Sir, your coffee will be there when you pay us to get it for you. Until then, I thought you might be interested in this press report." "Boy, would I ever. Lay it on the desk, and I'll make you Supreme Allied Commander for a pot of coffee," Most Holy said while refilling his cup. "As if that's all I had time for, was your caffeine habit. I'll be getting back to the range, Sir." "See ya there, if I ever get this work done." Picking up the report, MAUL's CINC once again began to read. "Cutting edge technology... revolutionize blah blah blah... wail a minute..." Most Holy put down his coffee. "Sergeant," he yelled. "Get in here!" ----- Bradford Wallace was lying on a blanket at the beach, looking out towards the bathers on this Labor Day Weekend. Though he was in the Windy City, the weather was hot and the wind nonexistent. The Chicago Skyline was to his right, itself bathed in a smoggy haze. His cellular phone rang, and after a few moments ("for suspense- gotta keep those people on their toes") he answered it. "Yeah, that's the plan. They should be angry about it. Yeah. Yeah. Hell no. Right. Well, get it done. Right. Later." He went back to his people-watching. ----- The mess hall was abuzz with heated conversations: "That was our deal. What right do they got?" "What matters is that the job got done. Not who did it." "Who are these guys?" "Hey, that's my cheeseburger. Get your own." Most Holy was in the Officer's Mess, talking to the general staff about this latest development. "I know, we planned that operation to go off next Sunday. This here Rouge Squadron pulled it off a week early. What do we have on them?" "Well, Sir, they're new, they use cutting edge technology, they want to revolu-" "I heard, I heard. what else?" A Colonel spoke up. "They just successfully hit the largest Pro-B'harne terrorist group in the Midwest, and hit them hard. They took minimal casualties and managed to get most of the leadership alive, well, and totally surprised. I'd guess they had access to the same information we did, except that was all classified and I'm damn sure we don't have spies." "How else could they pull this off? The press are calling them `the new and improved M.A.U.L.', they managed the largest victory since we nailed the Purple and Mauve Reptile Cult (PMRC), and they cite `anonymous intelligence assistence' in their press report as being the key. We've got a leak somewhere." Lt. Jeracho continued: "Either that, or these terrorists did, and that doesn't sound very likely." Most Holy answered, "Well, I'm not about to authorize a witch hunt. For the moment, let's proceed normally. Colonel Half Holy, I want you to check out this group, try to find who they are and what their agenda is. They've scheduled a press conference tonight, I have a friend at the Chicago Tribune who'll ask some questions. Let's see what they have to say about themselves." ----- A week later, Colonel Half Holy was laid to rest with full military honors. The doctors found that he had died of a cerebral brain hemhorrage at the age of 26. At the press conference, the Rouge Squadron only issued a prepared statement and took no questions. The only thing that was clear was that this new Anti-B'harne group was extremely successful, and very secretive.