provisionary, it was serious. He was taught what to do, but that was in the military. This was space mission administration. After being taught the 'ins and outs' of his mission even the worse case-scenario had been during, or after take-off. They were sitting-readying for launch outside the vessel. He deduced that something was 'wrong' with the craft. He knew to keep his head and that perhaps, it could be solved. But also that, as an international symbol something of the continuing was possibly, wrong. He'd been caught-up so dedicated to his new command, had never thought of an international incident... He'd never been one for politics, but may be something still within his polymetric...
He had to keep his-head together to be a true-Commander, at the least; an odd, and condemning prospect. There was no room for emphatics. He could only hope the problem could be overcame. And his teammates remained ready for flight. The great interstitial moment-was apparent... Upon which was the space-team, the Jihadi Caliph, and Bo Jon. The circle had to be closed. And the lead, if any one was to be, was the precise military missioner...Bo Jon Little-horse... He knew there was no time to waste. It was growing to dawn over the desolate country of desert and hills. In a large-hotel in Dubai in a posh-part of town area, the Caliph was resting. He carried the detonator-with him. He had imparted-to his men, back at home not to worry he was going to be with Alla. His men had a small capsule of high-explosive with them. All five-men knew they’d probably die for ‘Alla‘...
Time was of the essence, Bo Jon had to be ‘swift’. There was only ‘slight’-room for error... He concentrated in all his contemplative-energies into a deep-observation and intention. To plod ‘lightly’ to concentrate a resounding-sense of sophistication... He wanted to visualize his culprit, to watch the ‘wind’ of prospective-data. And had data, thinking and concentrated deduction flooded in, he saw it. A man not in the desert but in a soft region not resounding to destroy but awaiting his fate at the hands of his enemies. He was only a man, one man with the ability to set the world on ‘fire’. His sensing meditation almost made for a sad-‘image’. Like Saddam Hussein, he too, was afraid for all he’d done. A mortal knowing he’d meet his-maker... He was some where within a three-hours travel of Iraq. They’d informed him that he'd left soon after the time they’d arrived. Now, things were beginning to focus and gain detail... It was between act and actuality, to infer and interpret, to the depths-of-field. He had a genuine-concentration and within time he knew who the terrorist was. And as he viewed the screen of his laptop military-portal, it appeared.
One-Simi Adonela, a Shiite politician, had cross a check-point to Dubai. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary; until they’d registered him as a village-leader. A leader who’d been a former-politician now local-leader... What was a 'Caliph', was Jeuai the Caliph; Mr. Adenola, he wasn’t sure until he looked-up his-background... He was wealthy and once powerful yet he’d left it all behind to live in a secluded village. This was the likelihood that as in Laden he had money, and reverted to the ‘old-ways’. He left suddenly, without question. But then, crossed the border to a comfortable city. This was class-circle of Iraqi and Middle-East power-welder behavior. He went-back in time to all his foot-steps and mile-stones to find a definite 'feasibility'... One thing for sure, he had to be found and questioned and perhaps, detained. Emerging was a profile of a motive, predication and profile. Which only enriched the salacious-ideology of hopefully, Jeuai the village-Caliph...
...The 'terms', were falling-into place. Was it a division of thought between Jeuai and Bo Jon... The General was counting on his skills and talents. The world was depending-on him, and in sway for the Caliph. The terrorist was invoking a intolerance for world civility. To re-adjourn the now competence of a worthy global-culture. The General thought it would take a special-man, to fulfill the investigative-role and regiment. Though, it didn’t take long he too questioned Bo’s legitimacy, from the many parallels and protocol. He’d came to be confident in him through fellow-Armed Forces men. Men who didn’t take second-guessing or too fully, venting; it was a code-of-honor that was never crossed. Of the duty and dedication that with experience proved quite-worthy. Yet was Bo Jon all he was, as he could be. He was an investigator with an imminent record. But the General knew little of civilian-legal system. He did see, once reactivated that he hit the ground, ‘running’. He was a former-Green-Beret, an I.S. class-4, a veteran before the General’s time. So he did owe that respect, and respective that commanding soldiers stood by him perhaps, fortunately. He’d become dependable a distinct-individual all-around. Was this respect prove the solving and capture of a secret enlisting terrorist-villain, all he could do was to be 'ready', an ratify the necessary ‘actuals‘... His soldiers, working with him, said that he was progressing with a great-drive that they’d rarely, seen.
And this re-informing was seeing its fruition. By morning Bo Jon was having a cup of coffee by the window looking east. It was a desolate horizon bright-red. The military units were readying a patrol that was nearly senseless. Now, unlike doing the war, Americans and Iraqis were mutually, resolved. There had not been deaths in two years. Iraqis were a police-force, military and government; efficient at its purpose. The city and country had roads, pavement and public-project for all. The sanctity of a Middle-Eastern state was being essentially, maintained. The world assisted in the improvement of indigenous-culture. Oil, became locally and internationally, flourishing. An entire state benefited from incentive, cooperative-care. It was an affirming-vocation to ensure, and validate it and the world. An adamant implication injuring, defining and refining depending-availed. An enterprising divesting in the plural-voice and virtual in pre-eminent portal-price.
A prodigious-prevalence in practical, social provision. A precept of production, of virtue and vitality is a worthy wherewithal. It was a ceded, vibrancy that went through out the world. It was a worthy-cause in the spread of social-progression. The effective distribution of dedicated-respective a portal-of plenty if posterity, and against disparity to affix and affect; what was a worthy resigning resolute-reverence. A repudiation of formal-will and working; ultimately, residing of the overcoming for the future. Even the General and those in the Armed Forces came to accept what the legion of leaders had accomplished, without bloodshed. As the former-regimes dissolved from the world the greater 'will and rights' of all humanity transcended in redefinition and place; the designs of a worthy dimension. And as the birds flew in mornings wake, the sky turned a purple blue and smelled of gas, and the lights of a now peaceful Baghdad the city was making up to a Middle-Eastern peninsula day. It was winter in the region. The sky began to drift with clouds flowing to the west, below the horizon.
The platoon were all up on their detail, when Bo Jon began his next-move. He collected a lot of data streamed over his portal. Which he wanted to distributed to the General and all his critical men... The General had just finished meeting. With his C.O. for the day, when with astonishment he had to send immediate-orders for the Seals to go to a hotel in Dubai... And to notify his mid-range and outer-range superiors. He wanted men to open a proprietary case of one, Simi Adonela. And inform the F.B.I. and National-Security, to put out a most-wanted with the okay of the U.S. District Attorney... 'Tell them we have all the information he needs'... The machine was set into motion. It was a dynamic-affiliation of division, and resolve. The great-men of leadership were in inner-divulging. From Washington, the Pentagon and F.B.I. all were correcting in what was needed and responsive. The vision of 'ode' and order affiliated 'against the odds'-of chance and central-charter devising anew stridence in informing. By 8 a.m., there was a challenge-to chance, effecting the network-affiliation.
It was becoming a trident-vigil, on proponent and purport-vision. It was as a fully-international era, an international concern. The whole of the world was to act and answer what was a 'threat' to man and mankind. A definitive and incentive to invoice in national and internation
al-culture and society... A deeming-derivative, compounded upon one man. The word spread in leadership-circles. Its close definitive-pretense upon enactors of the times. The drive-train of the greater nation acting up on internal-safety was now being offered to enjoin and officiate tenable chances... The country of Dubai, was fully informed of what was the perniciousness of others and intrinsic variance. As the new-accommodation they allowed entry and guided the team to be given the 'okay' to move in. Using practical means, the maneuver was carried out with full-cause. Bo Jon knew he'd cracked the case of the century. There was one thing which he wanted to see the final-capture. He was escorted to the control room where the Seals were being filmed by helmet-camera.
Like the capture and kill of Bin Laden, the re-fracture of that incident was a proving of what Seal-Command could do. The General had been given control of their execution as head-of base. He'd gotten excited by the 'full-berth' of the project. He