Bankrupt Air Force
From Sterling’s Distraction.
“The Air Force flew in around noon,” Fontenot informed them, leaning on the padded bumper of his hummer and lowering his binoculars. “Got their glue bombs down, and some crowd-foamers. Plus the sawhorses and the tanglewire.”
“So at least they didn’t destroy the roadbed?” Norman said. Fontenot cordially ignored Norman. “They’re letting the lane from Texas through with no problems, and they’re waving everybody with Louisiana plates right through. There’s been no resistance. They’re shaking down the out-of-staters as they leave.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Oscar said. He put his helmet aside, adjusted his hair with a pocket comb, and donned his hat. Then stepped carefully out of the bike’s sidecar, trying not to dirty his shoes. The Louisiana bank of the Sabine was essentially a gigantic marsh.
“Why are they doing this?” Norman said.
“They need the money,” Fontenot told him.
“What?” Norman said. “The Air Force?”
“Got no federal funding to pay their power bills at the local air base. Either they pony up, or the utility cuts ’em off.”
“The continuing Emergency,” Oscar concluded.
—
The Texan man looked up at her cautiously, through the driver’s window. “It’s what?” he said.
“An Air Force bake sale, sir. Louisiana bake sale. We got your corn bread, your muffuleta bread, croissants, beignets… Maybe some chicory coffee? Ted, we got any of that chicory coffee left?”
—
“Battlespace awareness. That’s the key to rapid deployment. We have surveillance drones over the highway, checking car licenses. We input the licenses into this database here, run credit scans and marketing profiles, pick out the people likely to make generous financial contributions without any fuss…” The officer looked up. “So you might call this an alternative, decentralized, tax-base scheme.”
-Shlok
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