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Chapter Text

It was stupidly early in the morning at Stanley Air Force Base. John Oliver was pulling an all nighter - one can only put off paperwork for so long after all - but was finding it difficult to stay awake because all the paperwork he had to do was ineed just that tedous. He was regretting ever putting the paperwork off in the first place, but not only that, he was regretting ever leaving the Royal Air Force for the US Air Force at all. Why did he have to volunteer for the exchange program?

The only saving grace for John was that he was not the only one up that night who was bored to the point of sleep. Al, Ed, Mo, Aasif, Wyatt, and Desi were with him. Or at least they were supposed to be with him working the night shift. Though had no idea where they actually were.

John stretched and yawned as he decided to go to the barely maintained coffee machine to get a cup of that weak, shit tasting American coffee that was still better than nothing, if only because stimulants would be detected on a random drug test.

However, no sooner had he walked halfway across the room, his desk phone started buzzing. He bit back a swear as he, extremely grudgingly, doubled back to answer it. ‘Group Captain John Oliver speaking,' he said, more than a hint of irritation in his voice.

‘This is General Colbert speaking.’

‘Yes, sir. What is it?’ John asked, checking the time on his watch. 03:41. Goddamn was it too early for this.

‘Oliver, you know this is me?'

'Who else would it be?' John asked. Colbert was always a little on edge, but he seemed to be eerily calm tonight.

'Artificial Intelligence.'

John held back a clever quip. He simply was not in the mood for games this early in the morning. Or late at night, given he hadn't yet gone to sleep. 

'Or an enemy saboteur.'

'I understand your concerns, Sir, but you're using an internal line so it's clearly you speaking.'

'Hackers. Oliver! Think for a moment.'

'I'm thinking.' John said. He wasn't.

'Now I want you to listen to me carefully.’

‘As opposed to carelessly?’ As soon as the words left John’s mouth, he regretted it.

‘Are you trying to be a comedian, Oliver?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘You are not a comedian. For now, you are my number one. So you are to take things like war seriously. Am I understood?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good. Now. This base is to be put on condition red. Let all sectors know this immediately.’

‘But could you not have sent out communications yourself, Sir? I mean we all have pagers. And smartphones.’

‘I again ask you to think for a second, Oliver. Why am I calling you from the base’s internal telephone to tell you to put the base on code red?’

‘I don’t know, Sir. A midnight training exercise to keep us all on our toes, most likely.’ John glanced at his paperwork pile that needed writing up, and he screamed internally.

‘I’m afraid this is not a training exercise, Oliver.’

John looked down at his watch again. Then he quickly snapped back to reality. ‘Not an exercise? I’m sorry, what do you mean this isn’t an exercise?’

‘What do you think I mean?’

‘I don’t…’ John pulled out his smartphone to some group chat push notifications, social media push notifications, and a push notification from CNN about cars. ‘Well, we’re not being attacked, I would have had a push notification if we were -‘

‘Oliver. I shouldn’t be telling you this. But you’re a good officer. And my good friend.’

‘Oh hell,' John said, not looking forward to what would come next.

‘The Russians are preparing, as we speak, an attack against a NATO country, so we must be prepared for Article 5 to be triggered.’

‘Which NATO country is it?' John asked curiouisly. 'Is it Poland?’

‘… I’m not at liberty to say which one. That would be a breach of confidentiality.’

‘Of course,’ John said with a slight sigh.

‘And it’s likely that attack will be with nuclear weapons.’

John’s eyes widened in a sort of panic. ‘You’re joking right? Colbert? Stephen? Please tell me you’re joking.’ This got the attention of those around him, who looked at him curiously.

‘No, Oliver, I’m not a comedian, therefore I am not joking.’

‘Jesus.’ John shakes his head. ‘So… so what happens now?’

‘You are to inform everyone that this base is to be sealed tight. Nobody gets in. Only the B-52 fleet gets out.’

‘The B-52 fleet?’

‘Two twenty megaton nukes per plane should do it.’

John could only sit there, jaw agape as the cogs turned in his head. ‘Good god, you’re serious.’

‘Of course I’m serious, Oliver. Why would I not be serious?’

‘Yes. Yes, you’re right, I know you are.’

‘We don’t know if the Russians have tapped our phones. Or pagers. So they’ll all need to be turned off and impounded.’

John grabbed a ream of paper and a pen, scribbling just to make sure it worked. ‘Yes, of course, those Russian social media bots are a pain.’

‘All privately owned radios are to be impounded as well.’

‘Alright.’ John wrote that down.

‘And any other radios around the base are to be shut off.’

‘Got it.’

‘All computers are to be impounded.’

‘That bad?’ John asked.

‘Well, we’ll find out, won’t we, Oliver?’

‘Yes. I suppose we will.’

‘That’s all for now. I’ll call back with more information as I find out.’

‘Yes. Yeah. Keep me updated, please.’ John hung up. He put his hands on the desk and hung his head, thinking about all the unfortunate implications of that conversation. The world had survived the First Cold War only for something like this to happen. 

‘So, what’s going on?’ Ed asked.

‘Um… well...' John wasn't sure how to say what he needed to say. After all, it might well be the end of the world. And now it fell on him as the one to inform everyone. 'Well, we're in a bit of a sticky situation, as it turns out Russia’s about to attack NATO with nukes. So we’re going on red alert for the possibility of Article 5 being triggered... and a possible nuclear retaliation.’

Shocked murmurs spread through John’s colleagues.

‘Are you sure?’

‘That’s according to General Colbert, and he’s pretty reliable.’ John picked up the paper. ‘I need to impound all pagers, smartphones, radios, computers, and turn them all off, and turn off all radios around the base and scramble the B-52s.’

‘The B-52s?’ Desi asked in surprise. ‘That bad?’

John nodded regrettably. ‘Apparently so. So if you could impound your own items, that would be a huge help.’

In the chow hall, Shep Smith was reading a book as he ate - the book he read had the dust jacket of The Lord of the Rings, but it was really just a compilation of Chuck Tingle’s niche gay Bigfoot erotica.

Stefon was writing in his daily log as he ate, while next to him, Trevor played solitaire on his phone as he ate. Opposite Stefon, Seth was doing his best to just eat and not fall asleep in his food, resting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand. Amy was resting on the table, her head on her arms - not sleeping, of course. And Jessica was checking her watch and just eating.

Shep’s loyal crew. His men. At least for now. Shep had been part of many crews in his time with the US Air Force, and he could honestly say this lot were… one of them. Shep was the oldest and most experienced crew member. He was not only a pilot, but the commander. Seth was his second in command and fellow co-pilot. And he may or may not have been engaged in a love affair with Stefon, the communications officer. Jessica was the electronic warfare officer, Amy was the radar navigator, and Trevor, the navigator. They were about as diverse as a flight crew could possibly be in the Air Force. 

Seth yawned.

‘Yeah, see, I saw that,’ Trevor said, his eyes somehow seemingly on his both phone and his food.

Seth yawned again.

‘And that.’

‘Leave him alone, Trevor,’ Jessica said. ‘It’s not his fault he has to be up at this ungodly hour.’

‘Say the right time or don’t say it at all,’ Shep said, still not looking up from his bizarre gay erotica.

‘Fine. It’s 03:46 hours,’ Jessica said. 

‘Better.’

‘Remind me what we’re doing again,’ Seth said, shifting his head in his other hand.

‘Someone has to work the night shift,’ Shep said.

‘And that someone had to be us,’ Trevor said, glancing up from his game.

‘Well, it didn’t have to be, it’s just -‘ Shep was interrupted by a blaring alarm and slammed his book shut and down onto the table. 

Everyone else looked up from what they were doing. Even Amy, who raised her head off the table.

‘Okay. That is not good,’ Stefon said.

‘No, that’s concerning,’ Shep said.

‘It’s probably a drill,’ Amy said.

‘They would have told us,’ Jessica said.

‘Unless it’s a surprise drill,’ Amy pointed out. 'Testing our readiness for certain procedures.'

‘I’m afraid this isn’t a drill,’ Ed said, approaching them. ‘At least not according to General Colbert.’

‘Which one?’ Shep asked.

‘I’ve been told by Captain Oliver told to impound your radios, your phones, your pagers - in fact, all your electronics devices,’ Ed continued.

‘What? Why?’ Seth asked.

‘Because the Russians have declared war with NATO,’ Ed replied.

‘I see,’ Amy said. ‘That’s not good at all’

Everyone grudgingly surrendered their electronics to Ed, who inspected them before turning them off and putting them in a bin and leaving to do the same to the few others in the Chow Hall. 

‘Ah, Major Smith,’ John said, approaching the group. 

‘Cap’n Oliver,’ Shep greeted. ‘John. What’s up? Something about Russians declaring war on NATO?’

‘Yeah, what are you doing here, gracing us with your presence in the Chow Hall?’ Stefon asked, somewhat passive-aggressively.

‘Stefon,’ Shep warned.

‘Uh… David…’

‘Not liking how you used my first name, but go on.’ 

‘You don’t have to like it. I’m not your friend, I’m your superior.’ 

‘Alright, what's going on with the Russians?’ Shep asked, just wanting to know what was going on.

John smiled awkwardly. 'Ah. Well, how comfortable are your men with nuclear weapons?’

Everyone glanced somewhat uncomfortably. 

‘Well, if we have to use them, we have to -‘

‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Just suit up and get airborne.’ John said, as he went to tell others the same thing.  

‘Now I really think this is bad,’ Stefon said.

‘It ain’t just bad,’ Shep said. ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it.’

There’s nothing Jon Stewart hates more than having his sleep interrupted, mainly because as the President, he gets such precious little as it is. And having just had his sleep interrupted, he is livid.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Jon asked, trying both to express his anger and not to wake his still sleeping wife next to him.

‘There’s been some strange activity out of Stanley Air Force Base.’

‘What do you mean by “strange activity”?’ Jon asked.

‘Uh, B-52 fighter jets have been scrambled, Sir.’

‘How many?’

‘All of them.’

‘All of them?!’

‘Not "all of them" all of them, but all of the ones at the base, Sir.’

‘And it’s…’ Jon looked at the time on the alarm clock next to his bed. ‘It’s half four in the morning. What do you think is going on there?’

‘I don’t know, Sir.’

Jon hit his head with his phone trying to hold back an angry tirade and maintain his calm demeanour. ‘Keep an eye on the situation. Try and figure out what’s going on.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Jon ran his hand over his face. ‘Alright, thanks, Stephen.’

‘Paul.’

‘Yeah. Paul. Sorry. I had a long day yesterday at that COP climate summit.’ Jon paused and looked at the time again. Still so early. He wouldn't be starting regular work as the President for a few hours still. ‘Give me another hour at least - that is if nothing serious happens, like nuclear war.’

‘Well, actually…’

Jon inhaled through his nose, desperate to be calm. ‘I get the feeling, Paul, that you are about to give me some very bad news.’

‘Sixteen nuclear weapons are missing from our stockpile.’

‘Fuuuuu….’ Jon fought back a very loud swear. If it wasn't for his reputation, as well as his sleeping wife, he would have lost it then and there. ‘Of course they are. Of course they are.' His eye twitched. 'Stanley Base’s, I presume.’

‘Yes, Sir. All at Stanley Air Force Base.’

‘General Colbert, what the hell are you up to?’ Jon muttered. Then sighed. Then yawned. ‘Alright. I'm getting up. Gather everyone. Make the calls. We’re going to the War Room. And bring the other General Colbert.’ He grabbed his glasses from his bedside table and stood up. ‘Maybe he can shed some light on what his identical twin brother is doing.’

Chapter Text

Samantha Bee was waking up ready to get her kids ready for school. And of course, she had to be up for work. Which was always unsocial hours. It was a miracle she ever saw her kids at all ever since she was appointed to her role. 

Before she woke her kids up, she jumped in the shower to wash her hair. Probably the only wash she’d get to have all day.

While she was in the shower, her work phone started ringing. 

‘Sam, your phone’s ringing,’ her husband, Jason, said, knocking on the bathroom door. 

‘I’ll get it once I’m finished,’ Sam said. 

‘It’s your work phone,’ Jason said.

‘You take the call then,’ Sam said.

‘Me?’

‘Yeah, you have to. Just take a message.’ 

Jason sighed. He walked back over to the bed and picked up her phone. Half five in the morning. ‘Hello?’ he asked, listening to the voice on the other end of the call and his Bostonian accent. 

‘Who is this? This isn’t General Samantha Bee.’ 

‘No, this is her husband.’ Jason paused. ‘Mr Jones. Jason.’

‘I see. Is she there?’ 

‘Y…yes. She is here. But she can’t come to the phone right now, she’s in the shower. She said I should take a message?’ Jason said uncertainly. ‘Who is this?’ 

‘This is Conan O’Brien, National Security Advisor.’ 

‘Oh. Oh! Yes, yeah, I believe we met at that function last year for Thanksgiving - how are you?’ 

‘I’m fine. I take it you’re fine too? Yes?’ 

‘Yes. Yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Just, uh, like I said, I’m waiting for Sam to finish up in the shower,’ Jason said.

‘Any idea when that will be over?’ 

‘Look, Mr O’Brien, I don’t know. She’ll be finished when she’s finished. And we have to get our kids to school, still -‘

‘Fine.’ 

‘I can take a message if it’s that important.’

‘It is that important and I do need to speak with her quite urgently.’ 

Jason sighed again and jogged over to the bathroom door. He knocked on it. ‘Sam! There’s a guy named Conan O’Brien on the phone. The National Security Advisor.’

‘I know who he is, Jason!’ Sam said through the door, shower still running. ‘Ask him what he wants or tell him to call back.’ 

Jason turned back to Sam’s phone in his hand. ‘She wants to know what you want and if you can call back.’

‘I can’t call back because it’s a matter of national security.’

Jason growled, lowering the phone and knocking on the door again. ‘Sam, honey, he said it’s important.’

‘Then take a goddamn message,’ Sam said, ‘and I’ll call him back!’

Jason raised the phone to his ear again. ‘Alright, she said if you tell me what’s up, she’ll call you back as soon as she’s done.’

‘Fine. There’s something happening at Stanley Air Force Base. Their B-52 fleet have been scrambled and are currently airborne.’ 

Jason nodded, even though Conan O’Brien couldn’t see him. ‘Alright, Sam, B-52 fighter jets have been scrambled from Stanley Air Force Base.’ 

‘Sixteen nuclear warheads are missing from Stanley Base.’ 

‘And from Stanley Base, sixteen nukes are gone.’ 

‘Okay,’ Sam said. ‘Okay. Tell them to call uh… who’s in charge there? Colbert? The idiot one. He’s base commander.’

‘Sam asks if you can just call base commander General Colbert?’ Jason relayed. 

‘Yeah. No. We can’t get in touch at all. Communications in and out are dead.’ 

‘Of course,’ Jason muttered. ‘Sam, he says all communications are dead.’

‘Bullshit! It’s 2024!’ The shower stopped running. ‘Any idiot can hack the United States’ defence databases! Tell him to do it himself!’

‘Sam asks if you’ve tried personally to -‘

‘Obviously! We’ve all tried. Communications are dead. The phone line, the internet, the radio - all cut.’ 

Jason knocked on the door. ‘Sam! All communications have been shut off, even the internet.’ 

‘For God’s sake!’ Sam opened the door to the bathroom, dripping wet and buck naked. She made a motion for Jason to give her the phone. 

Jason obliged and handed her her work phone. 

‘Conan.’

‘Samantha, finally.’

‘What’s going on?’ 

‘So, about two hours ago, from Stanley Air Force Base, the B-52 fleet were scrambled. We were monitoring the situation, but we also noticed that sixteen nuclear warheads are also missing from the base.’ 

‘On the B-52s?’ 

‘Most likely.’ 

Sam grunted as she grabbed a towel. ‘B-52s don’t have nuclear capability anymore.’ 

‘We can’t get in touch with anyone at the base either. It’s like it’s gone into lockdown.’ 

‘I know there’s been talk of World War Three lately from… certain people. But we’re not quite there yet. Unless I missed something overnight.’

‘No, Ma’am, you haven’t. There’s no evidence of any imminent threat from Russia.’ 

‘There’s a surprise,’ Sam said sarcastically. 

‘We have no idea what this is about.’ 

‘And it’s definitely not some kind of twisted training exercise?’ 

‘No, Ma’am. The B-52 fleet are airborne and tracking shows they’re on their way to Russia.’ 

‘On their way to…’ Sam grit her teeth. ‘Can’t we get in radio contact with the B-52s?’ 

‘Signals are jammed.’

‘Jammed?’ 

‘It looks like, I don’t like to say this, Ma’am, but General Colbert overstepped his authority and unilaterally called an attack on Russia.

Sam paled. ‘Are you sure? Conan, are you sure?’

‘That’s just a theory. It’s not a given.’ 

‘Of course it’s a given! You just told me it’s not a training exercise! So we’re possibly looking at…’ Sam stopped and put her hand on her hip, realising what was possibly to come. ‘Conan, I really don’t like the look of this.’

‘President Stewart is asking all advisors and high ranking military officials to convene in the War Room.’ 

‘The War Room?’ Sam’s eyes popped. ‘Not the Situation Room?’ 

‘No. And as general of the Air Force Global Strike Command, you’re obviously invited.’ 

‘Jesus.’ Sam ran a hand over her face. ‘Okay. Okay. Conan, I’ll be there as soon as possible. Keep things quiet, but bump everything up to DEFCON 2.’ 

‘DEFCON 2?’ 

‘Prepare the military for possible imminent deployment. But don’t let anything slip to the public.’ 

‘You got it, Ma’am.’

‘I’ll be at the White House in two shakes of a crying baby,’ Sam said and hung up. 

Jason was sitting on their bed, scrolling through his phone. ‘DEFCON 2? That bad?’

‘Yeah. That bad. We haven’t been DEFCON 2 since the Cuban Missile Crisis. I mean, we were already at DEFCON 3 before all this bullshit. Now, we’re moving forward because of that idiot General Colbert. There’s two of ‘em - identical twins. One’s bright and cultured. The other one’s thick as pigshit so we stuck him where he wouldn’t cause any trouble. Or so we thought.’ 

‘Probably not a good idea to send anyone like that where there’s nuclear weapons.’

‘You’d be surprised where the nukes are, Jason. I can’t tell you though, national security. Now, where’s my uniform? I have to get to work.’

‘Not even gonna take the kids to school?’ 

‘No, you can do that,’ Sam said. ‘Actually… why don’t you keep the kids off today?’

‘Why?’ Jason asked, with a slight shake of his head. 

‘Oh. No reason. No reason.’ Sam said. She grabbed her bra from the floor and put it on. 

Chapter Text

Jon hurried down into the War Room after giving a fluff piece interview with George Stephanopoulos on ABC, leaving no indication that some general had lost his mind and unilaterally ordered what was looking to be nuclear strike on Vladimir Putin. But down in the War Room, that’s what he was having to deal with. 

‘O’Brien, Richter, is everyone here?’ Jon asked, pulling his tie loose. 

‘Well, no, the Vice President is on a preemptive apology tour in Latin America,’ Conan said. ‘The Secretary of State sends his apologies but he’s in Greenland. And the Secretary of Defence is tied up in Kyiv.’ 

‘Kyiv.’ Jon nodded. ‘Right. What about everyone else?’ 

‘Everyone else is present and accounted for,’ Andy said. 

‘Good. Good,’ Jon said. ‘And we can get in touch with all missing parties -‘

‘Yes, with a secure phone call,’ Andy confirmed. 

‘This is bullshit,’ Jon said. ‘Absolute fucking bullshit.’

‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ Andy said. 

‘You’re not the deranged lunatic who sent the B-52 wing out to Russia. Are you, Richter?’ 

‘No. No, Sir. That wasn’t me,’ Andy confirmed. 

‘Because whoever it was is going to get the firing of a lifetime.’ Jon calmly walked over to his seat at the round table and looked out at his staff. ‘Sorry to have had to gather you all at such short notice. But it appears we have a matter that needs to be urgently attended to.’ He turned to Sam as Conan and Andy sat on either side of him. ‘We’ve invited General Bee of the Air Force Global Strike Command to let us in on what she knows so far. General Bee.’

Sam stood up. ‘Right. Mr President, about two and a half hours ago, give or take…’ she looked down at her watch, ‘ten minutes. General Stephen Colbert, the commanding general at Stanley Air Force Base out in California, well, he issued an order of the fleet of the fifteen B-52 planes in the wing to…’ she paused and chuckled awkwardly. ‘To attack Russia.’

A chorus of groans, moans, and murmuring. 

‘It gets worse. Sixteen nuclear warheads are currently unaccounted for from the US stockpile -‘

Panicked murmuring. 

‘Yes, we believe that General Colbert is responsible for that. That he took the warheads. Put them on the B-52 planes. And sent them to attack Russia.’

‘Attack Russia,’ Jon repeated.

Sam nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘How long before the planes reach Russian airspace?’ Jon asked. 

‘Um, well, yeah. We have time. There’s about 8 hours to go before they reach the easternmost point of Russian land, which, as you know, would be Cape Dezhnyov. So it gives us until about 3pm to come up with a plan,’ Sam said.

‘Okay. That’s good,’ Jon said. 

‘Not really,’ Sam said. ‘Because Putin’s gonna figure out what’s happened when we’ve got a fleet of B-52 bombers in his airspace.’

‘Right.’ 

‘So it’s not gonna be “good” exactly. And we have, more realistically, until about 11am to figure out what we’re going to do.’ 

‘Four hours.’ 

‘Four hours. Yes.’ 

‘Okay. So how did General Colbert order this nuclear strike? I thought I was the only one with that authority. I mean, I’m the only one with the nuclear football.’ 

‘Yes, Sir, that is true,’ Sam nodded. ‘You are the only one with the authority. General Colbert exceeded his authority.’

‘And the sky is blue,’ Jon said. ‘So how did he do it?’

‘Um. Plan R, Sir,’ Sam said. 

‘Plan R?’ 

‘It’s been in place since 1964, so it’s quite an archaic -‘

‘Archaic? It might as well be from the Stone Age!’

‘Yes, well, blame President Merkin Muffley for that one,’ Sam said. 

‘A curse on that long dead bastard,’ Jon said. ‘Making my life harder. I was two years old in 1964!’

‘And I wasn’t even born then,’ Sam said. 

‘Go on. Plan R.’

‘Plan R - that’s R for Romeo - is an emergency war plan in which a commander lower in rank than yourself, is able to give orders for a retaliatory nuclear strike, if - and only if - the normal chain of command is disrupted. Like yourself and the Vice President are dead -‘

‘I know what a disruption to the normal chain of command is,’ Jon said. ‘And I know I’m the head of that command.’ 

‘Okay. Great. Now, as part of Plan R, all radio links to the planes are severed in order to prevent the enemy hacking into the planes’ computers and issuing fake commands. So unless any message is preceded by the correct three letter code, there’s no way we can get through to any of the planes at all.’

‘So the B-52s can’t be recalled?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘Yes?’

‘That’s right, no they can’t.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Jon closed his eyes trying not to let a tirade of fury erupt from him. ‘Okay. What now?’

‘Well…’ Sam said. ‘We’re going through all possibilities of the three letter code starting with AAA. We started as soon as I got the call around half an hour ago.’

‘And how long will that take?’

‘With 17 thousand different combinations, it’ll take about two and a half days to transmit them all.’ 

‘And we have how long?’ 

‘Four hours.’ 

‘Surely we can do something to hasten this?’

‘Hope we get the right combination in time,’ Sam said with a slight shrug. 

‘You’re general of the Air Force Global Strike Command.’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Are you in communication with General Colbert at all?

‘No, Sir, nobody is.’ 

‘Why not?’ Jon asked, getting increasingly agitated. 

‘Because General Colbert sealed off the base and cut all communications. Radio, phone internet… it’s all cut off, Sir.

Jon turned to Conan. ‘Did you know this?’ 

‘Yes, Sir.’ Conan nodded. ‘General Colbert called the Air Force Global Strike Command right after he issued the go code. This was shortly before we got in touch with you and General Bee. We have the transcript right here.’ He turned to Andy. ‘Andy?’ 

Andy stood up. ‘General Colbert called Air Force Global Strike Command at 0422 AM, to report that he had issued the go code for an all out nuclear strike on Russia - at the Primorsky Krai, we think around the Vladivostok region. The most senior officer at the AFGSC asked for confirmation that General Colbert had enacted Plan R - for Romeo. This is what he said.’ 

Andy took the piece of paper from Conan and began to read from it. ‘Yes, gentlemen, they are on their way to Russia right now and nobody will be able to bring them back. For the sake of the United States and its democracy, our American way of life, I suggest the rest of the Armed Forces follow them in, lest we be completely destroyed by Vladimir Putin he way he wants to destroy us and is currently already trying to do so. My boys will give a great start, 16 nuclear bombs and 240 megatons on Primorsky Krai. You, and the rest of NATO, should go into Moscow while they’re distracted and take them down. We have no other choice. We will prevail over those Godless Russkies to create a world full of peace, freedom of fear, and in true health through the purity and essence of our… natural… fluids.’ 

‘We’re still trying to figure out what he means by that sentence,’ Conan added. 

‘He ended with “God bless America”,’ Andy said. 

Veins in Jon’s head were beginning to pulsate in pure rage. ‘There’s nothing to figure out, O’Brien, General Colbert is obviously in the midst of a psychotic episode and needs serious mental help.’ 

‘If I may.’ 

Jon turned to look at his Joint Chief of Staff Chairman, General Stephen Colbert. The other one. The sane one. ‘You may.’

‘I know my brother better than anyone,’ he said. ‘I know he means well -‘

‘Meaning well and doing well are two very different things, Stephen.’

‘True. But he’s never shown any signs of mental illness before this,’ Stephen said. ‘I find it unlikely that, at the age he is now, he’d suddenly become gripped by psychosis. I think it’s far more likely that he…’ 

‘That he what, Stephen?’ 

‘He subscribes to certain conspiracy theories, you’re aware of this.’

‘Unfortunately.’

‘One of those conspiracies is one floated about recently by RFK Jr, that fluoridation causes autism. And an older conspiracy is that the Soviets were poisoning us by fluoridating our water.’ 

‘So?’

‘So I believe he believes that the Russians are fluoridating our water in order to give people autism.’ 

The entire war room fell silent as they tried to process what a Stephen had just said.

‘Oh my fucking god,’ Sam said. ‘He’s not insane, he’s just a bigger idiot than we thought.’

‘Which begs the question, General Bee, why did you promote him?’

‘In my defence, I didn’t think he’d set World War Three into motion, Sir.’

Jon turned to Conan. ‘So General Colbert cut off all communications at Stanley Base.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ Conan confirmed. 

‘I need to talk to him,’ Jon said. ‘Are there any other military bases near Stanley?’ 

‘Yes, Sir, there’s a Marine base 7 miles away.’ 

‘General Klepper, I want your men to enter Stanley Base, locate General Colbert, and get him immediately on the phone to me.’ 

‘Yes, Sir,’ Jordan nodded and picked up his work phone.

‘Mr President,’ Sam said cautiously, ‘under Condition Red, it’s standard procedure the base be sealed off and defended by those at the base. So anyone who tried to enter will incur heavy casualties.’

‘I’m well aware, General Bee, but the fate of the world hangs in the balance. What’s a few casualties in preventing Armageddon?’ Jon said sternly. 

‘I’m sure my men can get past your men without much difficulty,’ Jordan said folding his arms with a smirk. ‘After all, we’re the US Marines and we’re trained in ground combat. You’re just the Air Force. Go hop in a jet, flyboy.’

‘Hey! We’re a valid member of the Armed Forces unlike Steve Carell over there and his Space Force!’ Sam aggressively pointed over to him.

‘Hey!’ Steve cried out indignantly. ‘I resent that remark!’

‘No insults! We’re all adults here and we need to act like it!’ Jon snapped. 

‘Okay, but it’s not like we’re gonna recall the 843rd bomb wing any time soon,’ Sam said. ‘So we must think of alternatives. By 11am, the Russians will have our B-52 bombers on their radar and they’re gonna wonder what the hell we’re doing. And when they see them heading further for Vladivostok, they’re going to want to shoot them down. No. Strike that. They will shoot them down. With absolutely everything they’ve got. You know they will. Just think of all the civilian planes they’ve brought down. So we need to pre-preempt that attack.’

‘And how do you suppose we do that, General Bee?’ Jon asked.

‘I think General Colbert spelled it out for us here when he says…’ Sam reached over and snatched the transcript from Andy.

‘Hey!’ Andy protested. ‘I’m the Director of National Intelligence! I can have you jailed for that!’ 

‘No you won’t. We’re trying to prevent World War Three here. It’s all for the good of the US of A.’ 

‘Says the Canadian,’ Conan said. 

‘You watch it. I’m Canadian-American. Naturalised citizen here,’ Sam said. ‘Ah. Here. General Colbert says “You, and the rest of NATO, should go into Moscow while they’re distracted and take them down.” So he’s stupid, but not too stupid enough to recognise that a surprise nuclear attack would be enough to take out their nuclear arsenals.’ 

‘You’re forgetting about Dead Hand,’ Jon said. 

‘Ah!’ Sam stood up again. ‘But that still requires a person left in the command chain to operate Dead Hand. And if we prepare our citizens for war right now, and warn other NATO countries, we stand a chance of saving most of the populations of these countries while simultaneously destroying Russian nuclear capabilities. 90% if a recent study is to be believed, and I have no reason to believe it can’t. So we would therefore prevail and suffer modest - no acceptable - civilian casualties from the remaining 10% of their nuclear force, which would, without leadership or Dead Hand, be severely uncoordinated,’ she said proudly.

‘No. No. Absolutely the fuck not. I am not ordering an all-out nuclear strike on Russia.’ Jon said. ‘Ideally I’d like to get through this crisis without dropping a nuke at all.’

Sam laughed, but covered it up as a cough. ‘With all due respect, Mr President, General Colbert struck first. We’re just empting their preemptive attack.’ 

‘Empting?’ Jon raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought we were pre-preempting?’ 

‘Whatever it is, General Colbert violated policy and overstepped his authority. Now we’re faced with this dilemma of choosing between two, admittedly regrettable scenariosa scenario in which 150 million people are killed, an another in which 20 million people are killed. No more than 20 million - tops.’ 

‘I’d prefer not to slaughter the American public like they were sitting ducks,’ Jon said. ‘Not just Americans either. I’m not going down as the worst mass murderer since Pol Pot -’ 

‘No, no.’ Sam shook her head. ‘Pol Pot systematically targeted Vietnamese, Chinese, and Cham people -‘

‘And we’d be targeting Russian people!’ Jon said. ‘Absolutely not. I am not - Klepper. Get your boys. Do not let them stop until Colbert is on the phone to me.’ 

‘Yes, Mr President,’ Jordan said. He stood up to make the phone call.

‘It’s days like this I wish the other guy had won,’ Jon sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

‘Well, you got your wish,’ Conan said. 

‘Yeah. It’s just too bad this couldn’t have happened two months later under his term.’ Jon said.