The Homes of the Drones

Chairs remained empty. They represented the absence of the other branches of the United States Armed Forces. Who remained from that country sat fifty-six-year-old Air Force Chief of Staff General Lumia Stockley. Skin the color of the oak desk at which she sat and braids covering her hair, her uniform looked immaculate. Each of the four silver stars on her shoulders and the collar of her shirt spoke of her care and exactitude in presenting herself and reflecting the traditions and customs of the United States Air Force.

Opposite her, fifty-seven-years-old Marshal of the Royal Air Force Air Chief Marshal Sir Braxton Coleridge, sat with his legs crossed at the knee dreaming of a pipe. His uniform was just as polished and projected a regality in its presentation. No words were exchanged until pages entered the room to give briefing notes on why the two occupied the room in the first place.

“Drones?” Coleridge finally asked.

“Yes. We’re going to use nuclear arms against the Kremlin using drones,” she said.

“Why that’s absurd. We can’t just––” Coleridge started.

“Actually, we can. It is time for us to strike at the heart of Russia in Moscow.”

“And you? How did you get those stars?” Coleridge asked.

“I didn’t get them. I earned them.”

Coleridge felt the sting of her words but didn’t show an ounce of being put in his place. “Nevertheless, we cannot afford to use nuclear weapons against a power that has the largest arsenal in the world. It’s well…batty.”

“Batty?! Don’t you know that with Russia swinging its ax haphazardly through Europe, it’s going to start to advance its ill doctrine to other territories?”

Coleridge fired back. “There won’t be any territories once we launch an attack on Russia. Their capacity to make war, although a bit unorthodox, even sloppy, doesn’t mean they won’t access those weapons and wipe our countries off the map.”

Lumia sighed. “Don’t you know that we’re going to be in the crosshairs next? The relative freedom of the United Kingdom and the United States is a result of our ideas. We have pushed for the individual and what we must protect is the property and rights of such an individual.”

Coleridge gave out a light chuckle. It was like a schoolboy’s laugh after pulling the hair of the girl seated in front of him.

“You talk about drones as if they’re going to be the only option for us. Our diplomacy––”

“It’s not our diplomacy.”

“Will you let me finish?” Coleridge’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What I’m saying is that it is too dangerous to use nuclear weapons, even advanced ones, to contend against a power such as Russia.”

“Okay, now you let me finish. All we have are the routes for us to use to ensure that the aircraft find their targets and destroy the entire makeup of the Kremlin. This will be done with your assistance or without, but we will prevail with our drone program.”

Coleridge rested his hand on his head and scratched it. He looked as if he were peeling away thoughts in his mind the way he scratched. He appeared to be admonishing himself for even entertaining Lumia’s presence.

“What you must try to comprehend is that the entirety of the world, not just the US and UK, but the planet is within the sphere of what the Russians are doing right now. If they plan to just start wars with neighboring countries, we should send arms and attempt to decrease their power in those regions. We should do that rather than destroy a six-hundred-year-old fortress.”

“That fortified complex has seen some of the most horrific scenes of bloodshed or allowed it to happen in the first place. What this drone strike will do is prevent further deaths from occurring by the hands of any more Russian despots.”

Coleridge took a moment and breathed. “How are we even supposed to load nuclear weapons on drones, if we were to do this?”

“We’ve been developing smaller, smarter, and more devastating nuclear weapons to be affixed to the drones. They will be the key to our winning the war against Russia,” Lumia said, her back looking like a steel beam holding up the structure of her entire body. Coleridge snickered. “That is absolutely mad,” he chimed.

“Mad, how? The protection of millions of people against a dictator who feels on whim that he can do whatever he feels like?”

“It’s mad in the sheer ineptitude of it all.”

“Ineptitude?! I don’t know how many combat missions you’ve flown, actually I do. You have twenty three to your credit. I’m not comparing, but I’ve flown fourteen. That’s less than you, but I was responsible for more enemy kills. Again, this isn’t a contest. I’m simply pointing out that the amount of deaths that can mount up can be overwhelming.”

“Okay, so you’re a top flier. What you fail to realize is that there is a drone controlled from Las Vegas, Nevada in your home country, where pilots, officers, flip burgers and drink beer and do nothing but rule the skies all over the world.”

Lumia looked clearly miffed. She pressed down her uniform and wiped off her shoulders. The bile rising in her voice she tamped down with a laugh. “You think I don’t know that? I sent those men and women to Nellis to train and perform maintenance on those birds. Yes, they’re drones and no, they’re not physically flying, but between the grub and booze, they’re reliable, capable airmen who know what they’re doing.”

With a flick of the wrist, Coleridge looked at his watch. “We should be–”

Then, the door swung open and Madam Felina Archibald walked into the room. Lumia and Coleridge rocketed out of their seats and stood at the position of attention.

“As you were,” Felina commanded them. Her face was darker than Lumia’s and she had gray locks that flowed down her back. They were tied neatly and every strand looked as if it had a place.

“You know,” Felina said, “The British were the first to use technology related to drones during World War I in 1917. The US soon introduced its own drone in 1918. It’s great to deal in the realm of the two senior officers who represent the homes of the drones.” She looked at the two top officers. Her eyebrows narrowed. “You two not tracking on this piece of intelligence?”

“Coleridge doesn’t think I’m qualified, doesn’t think the drone program holds up, and thinks this entire meeting is a waste of time.”

Coleridge turned bone white. “Why, Madam President, I hope you will allow me to explain my side. General Stockley senses that a nuclear drone attack is the only option against Russia.”

“And I’m saying it, too. That’s why we’re implementing this strategy with speed.”

Lumia sat with her hands folded in her lap and her chin slightly canted.

Air Chief Marshal Coleridge you are highly accredited and are a gentleman in this house. It behooves you to treat General Stockley with the same reverence and respect that you show me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Madam,” Coleridge said with sincerity and without the bite of sarcasm or distaste.

“You both are here to observe the fact that Russia is moving closer and closer to expanding its wave of tyranny across the world. What we must do is act swiftly and combat and thwart their advances to the US and its allies. I’m not in the selflessness business so I will state firmly that it is a rational and selfish action we must take in order to secure a proper existence for the indvidual.” She then rose to her feet and the two generals followed. Lumia held the door for President Felina Archibald. Coleridge attempted to hold the door for Lumia.

“I insist,” she said. The Air Chief Marshal then grinned and held his cover over his chest and proceeded out of the room.