Sheila had the soul of a cavalry commander and lived the warrior's code of old. Feed your horses, your troops, and yourself. In that order. Her declaration of a banquet of gratitude was a brazen departure from the typical bullshit command response to a crisis which was: when in doubt, run in circles, scream, and shout. 

With the generous help of brandy and buds, Martha's magnificent meal of thanksgiving had brought everyone, myself included, back from the brink. 

"Come on in; the water's fine!" Sheila's mellow laughter echoing from the walls of the cavern's chamber ended in a splash of bubbles as her nude body submerged beneath the dark steaming waters of the hot spring's cool lagoon. 

"Coming in?" StarShine invited. She unbuckled her belt and held on to my arm for balance as I played fence post while she stepped out of a puddle of faded blue jeans. 

She continued to hold on to me as she stripped naked and started to tug at my belt. Nudity at a distance is scenery; up close and personal it becomes sensual. I took a step backward. 

Ever since I rescued Star from her stupor, she had become a living shadow. She clung to me while we gathered beverage and weed. At dinner, she huddled next to me and hardly ate a thing. Finally, I played daddy and practically had to spoon feed her. The effort was worth it. By the end of supper, she was sitting up and taking notes. 

"Yeah, Sky! Come on in, I need your assistance," the commander called to me as she rose, bare and bronze, from the ink-black water and beckoned me to her side, like a beautiful siren out of Greek mythology. 

Being the coward I am, I undressed on the run as I raced to obey my boss's command. Business before pleasure. 

"Mister Wolf and I have matters to attend to," Sheila advised StarShine as she guided me toward the dark recesses of a rock formation. A shadow cave in a shadowed realm. "Please provide us with the privacy we require." 

"Thanks," I quacked in my best Donald Duck voice as I splashed my saggy ass across the pool like thunder-duck. A few giggles from the shoreline were proof my performance had not gone unnoticed. 

As we reached an area obscured from view, Sheila gave me a surprising gravity assist as, like a kung-fu ballet dancer, her bare leg swept my feet out from under me, and she guided me to splashdown as she plopped into the warm water next to me. 

"Ooof! What is your pleasure?" I grunted and shuddered at my poor choice of words. 

"No touchy-feely," Sheila said as her hand reached into my lap and wrapped her fingers around my privates. "We've got real business at hand," she said with a grim smile as she squeezed Harvey and gave him a shake before letting go. 

What an odd way to seal a deal. I grabbed her crotch and gave her pubic mound a squeeze and wiggle. 

"Deal?" I said as I leaned over and kissed her cheek. 

"Oh!" Her eyes widened in a surprised gasp as she blushed.

"Deal," she lightly slapped my face and moved my hand away. "We've got a lot to talk about. After the banquet, buds, brandy, and a bath, I think the Sisterhood will slumber for the next six hours or so." She glanced at the luminous dial on her self-winding wristwatch. 

"I told Martha we'd use the feast as an excuse to take a dip in the hot springs to decompress and relax. The mellow combo of cannabis buds and brandy sure helped. The Sisterhood needs a good night's sleep," Sheila said while she splashed steaming water over her bare chest. 

"When the crew wakes up, we'll need a plan on the table. Power nap for ten minutes, then we'll talk." Sheila stretched her arms wide, and she yawned before settling her tanned body into the dark steaming waters. Ever resourceful, she used a rounded rock as an improvised pillow and closed her eyes. Little rest for the weary and none for the wicked. 

"What the heck is a fucking power nap?" I mused to myself with an ironic grin; maybe sounds like Zen at gunpoint: an obvious oxymoron. Despite myself, I perchanced to dream, as the poets would say. On Morpheus' scale from one-to-ten, I managed to dream in the negative numbers as I dreamt the entire SkyFire experience was merely a dream Darlene and I had while sleeping together in a nice warm bed. 

"Wake up, sleepyhead. Up and at 'em, duty calls," an annoying voice in my ear whispered as a torrent of warm water splashed in my face and up my nose. 

"Wow!" I sputtered as I pushed myself upright and turned off the waterboard alarm clock. "Take it easy," I growled. "I hate getting woke up with water, I ain't-a goddamn lily!" 

"It's a free adrenalin boost, better than caffeine," she said as she gave me a nasty smirk. 

"Careful, boss. Turnabout is fair play." I wiped my face and dried my hair with my hands as I climbed to my way to my feet and splashed toward my clothes on the shore. I was pissed with an anger driven more by fear than annoyance. 

The leader's leisurely stroll gave me time to reset my external mask to business. I'd lick my wounds later. We were now in the broken world of the looking glass at the bottom of a deep doomsday rabbit hole. The first order of business was survey, inventory, and repair as we assembled resources and planned for the future. 

"Sorry about that, Sky," Sheila apologized as I dried my hair with my undershirt. "I couldn't resist, you looked too peaceful," she said as she smoothed my hair with her hand. 

"It's okay; I was having a fucked-up dream." 

She was sending mixed signals of authority and arousal, or at least availability. Sheila was trying to be nice, almost like a friend. 

"What's the plan?" I asked as I stuffed my junk in my shorts, zipped up my jeans, and awaited instructions. 

"Give me a sec to air dry," Sheila shook herself like a cat and squeegeed water droplets from her arms and legs with her hands. 

"Here, allow me," I said as I towel- dried her hair with my T-shirt. "How are you doing?" I touched her bare arm with my hand and searched her eyes for the answer. 

"Hanging in there. Thanks," she replied and covered my hand with her's and gently squeezed my fingers. "I'm good. How ya doing old man?" she teased with a thin smile. 

The corners of her mouth bent down as she studied my face and took the measure of my mind. The concern shining in her eyes could have been that of a mother or a lover. Whatever it was, it created within me a connection of affection. She cared for me. 

"I'm okay. It is what it is." I returned her gaze with a smile of my own and hugged her arm with my hand. We were good. 

"In that case, let's go topside and see what's cooking," she said as she gathered her clothes and began to dress. 

"I hope you're speaking metaphysically and not literally." I chuckled and glanced upward at the vaulted ceiling of our underground cavern. 

"No shit," Sheila laughed. 

=^.^= 

Even though sunrise was still several hours away, the sky above Liberty Mountain glowed with the colors of a false dawn. 

"Let's see if we can restore the lights." 

She flipped open the cover to the electrical panel and examined the rows of circuit breakers with the beam of her tac-light. The solar storm's EMP had tripped every safety switch. After a moment of study, she reset the breaker for the solar array's battery supply. 

"Here goes nothing." 

She paused for a moment, took a deep breath. With a sharp click, the cabin's shadows died as the lights within came alive, and she closed the circuit for the interior's lighting system. About three times as bright as the full moon, the psychedelic sky was a surrealistic swirl of confused rainbows dancing along invisible lines of magnetic force. 

I shook my head in wonderment. Mother nature painted in the style of Vincent van Gogh. I hadn't seen anything like it since dropping a tab of acid back in my hippy-dippy days after I got back from Vietnam. 

"What do you think?" Sheila held my arm with both hands as we gazed together at the heavens. 

"Boss, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." I scanned the sky and suppressed a shudder. "The hell with Wichita; it don't look like we were still on the same damn world." I looked at my watch. "We've got a couple of hours before wake-up." 

"Come with me. We need to talk," the Commander said as she led me by the hand to the kitchen. 

Pre-measured coffee things are a God's send when we don't want to think. With a push of a button, the coffee pot does our will without our intervention. I noted the label: one hundred percent Columbian. We would be lucky to see this breakfast blend again in this lifetime. 

"What's on your mind?" I asked as I settled into the seat across from her at one of the small kitchen tables. 

"Thank you for your help this evening. You did an excellent job." Sheila's eyes were unblinking, and her voice was whisper quiet as she spoke. 

"None necessary, I didn't do much of anything." I shrugged uncomfortably in my seat as I tried to think why I was being thanked. As far as I was concerned, my performance had been abysmal. I had been so scared I nearly pissed my pants. 

"You did what was necessary and helped get everyone sorted out and calmed down while I did an initial damage assessment with Jennifer. I appreciate that." The commander splashed a shot of brandy into her ceramic mug and stirred it for a moment before blowing a wisp of vapor from the brew's surface. 

"That thing out there has changed everything," she said as she glanced over her shoulder at the sky glow pouring in through the picture windows at the front of the cabin. "We work well together. You knew what needed to be done and you did it without question or reservation. I especially liked the old Unitarian Hymn you quoted in your prayer of thanksgiving." 

She took a sip of coffee, closed her eyes and repeated the lines I had evoked. "'The world we knew is passing, all things grow strange. All but the undiminished luster of an ancient dream, a dream we shall dream again, pilgrims forever in a world forever new.' Nice touch." She smiled and silently mouthed the words, "Thank you." 

For several moments, neither one of us spoke as we sat together in silence and pondered the implications of recent events. Sheila and the society had spent years wargaming and training for different apocalyptic scenarios. Theory is one thing; reality is another. The solar storm had caught us by surprise and left me, Sheila, and the sisters dazed and off balance. 

"This morning's meeting of the Society is going to be critical," the commander said as she tapped the table with her finger for emphasis. "We need a plan, and we need it fast. I need your help. I can't do this alone," she said with a sigh as she took a slow sip from the red enamel cup, handcrafted by the Sisterhood's pottery workshop, and waited for me to respond. 

"I thought giving orders was your department. Do you really want my advice?" 

"Yes, of course, I do. You're part of my leadership team." 

"Okay, let's do a bit of brainstorming." I took my notepad from my back pocket and prepared to write. 

Over the next twenty minutes, we put together a quick plan of action. The women of the clan were all skilled in their chosen fields of expertise. Before we did anything else, we needed a complete and accurate inventory of equipment and supplies: what still worked, what was damaged, and what was destroyed? 

To be meaningful, any plan would have to take into account the Society's status of resources. 

=^.^= 

Brenda's face was grim as she rose from her seat and took her place behind the podium. Her expression was a perfect mirror of the dour faces of the sisterhood. As quartermaster, she and her crew were responsible for logistics and the Colony's inventory of supplies and equipment. 

"We took a heavy hit last night," Brenda said using a voice loud enough to reach the furthest corners of the amphitheater. 

The power surge which killed the lights also crucified the public address system. Lung power replaced loudspeakers. I leaned forward in my seat and strained to hear. Too many hours walking the flight line in the war without ear protection had damaged my hearing. 

"Everything above ground with a circuit board is dead." She paused and scanned the room before turning to the commander. "With the exception of devices and equipment in use or in reserve in the cavern, we're back in the 1920s." 

She pointed to the darkened video displays and the bank of lifeless monitors lining the wall behind her. "Quick summary. Remote sensors and video have been decimated. Forty out of forty deployed devices have been destroyed, five reserve sensors and cameras in our underground storage cavern remain operational." The quartermaster's facial expression could have been borrowed from a grieving mother mourning the loss of her children. 

"Our vehicle fleet has been decimated. The storm fried the microchips in our fourteen trucks and SUVs. They are beyond repair. Transportation is limited to three Kawasaki Mules, a dozen horses, and half-dozen motorized bicycles." Brenda's look of despair said more than her words. 

"We have no airforce left. Our squadron of drones, all fifteen of them, are history. We have three which were in the shop for repairs and maintenance, maybe they can be salvaged. Beyond that, we got nothing flying, except for our flock of fucking chickens," the quartermaster snarled. 

Her well-known hatred of chickens colored her answer. Brenda always said the stupid creatures shat too much and tasted like snakes. 

"Any other good news?" Sheila asked with a sympathetic smile. I think she appreciated the attempt at humor. 

"I'll make it simple. Aside from our geothermal electric generating system, the only devices with microchips still operational are the servers and computers in the control center and the Library of Athenia, a couple of video cameras, and a few handheld radios. Oh, and our satellite phones still work." Brenda shook her head as she rustled through her notes. 

"We had 'em stored next to the Faraday cages we planned to install next month," the Quartermaster said to scattered humorless chuckles of irony. 

If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, our plan to up-armor our electronics was a major onramp.