"Ladies and gentlemen, we are not here to take over the government and run it the way the military runs things. This country has been attacked both from without and within. Stability must be reestablished in order for the citizen population to be safe. That, along with preserving and defending the Constitution is our ultimate mission."
More clapping. This time Nella waited, basking in the adoration until the clapping died down on its own. "Now, that's enough pontification. Let's get back to work people." He took a long look around. "As you were."
The room immediately commenced into controlled chaos with the boisterous hubbub of everyone talking at once, moving back to their stations and relaying orders and positions.
Nella turned to face Ross. "All right, now that's over with—let's have a sit rep."
The general escorted them into a room labeled 'officer of the watch'. He shut the door behind them, blocking off almost all the sound from the main room. Turning on a large screen that covered the entire far wall, General Ross picked up a laser pointer.
"The situation is not good, admiral. Outside of your forces and General Stapleton's Division," he said indicating on the map with his laser pointer the respective groups on the eastern seaboard, "we're having one hell of a time trying to coordinate the incoming troops from overseas. President Reed's last order to withdraw all troops from foreign bases around the world was never rescinded. I don't know if anyone could stop it, anyway."
"How many?" asked Nella.
The general frowned, pressing his lips into a thin line. "We've only been able to reestablish contact with about 50% of the outstanding assets." He shook his head. "We can confirm almost 30% losses. We’ve been attacked everywhere we turn, Europe being the worst."
"Figures,” Nella grunted. “What about the Rim?"
The general frowned. "The Pacific is a total wildcard. We expected Europe to be the most friendly and China to be the most hostile, however it's been the exact opposite." He shifted the laser pointer to Beijing.
"While the Chinese haven't completely ignored our requests for a cessation of hostilities, they haven't overtly attacked any of our forces overseas. It's like they suddenly decided to ignore us. On our own soil, it's a different matter."
Nella looked at the map. Davis followed his gaze and found the southwest littered with little red dots and a few black triangles.
"What the hell's going on over here?" Nella said pointing at the map.
The general sighed. "The Chinese invaded the southwest."
"Fuck me sideways," Nella growled. "The rumors were true? And that pantywaist in the Oval Office let it happen?"
Gen. Ross narrowed his eyes. "And that was the straw that broke the camel's back, sir. When he announced the treaty, we rose up and took back the Pentagon. We lost twenty-five good people doing so, but we wouldn't stand for making peace with those bastards."
Nella nodded. "Retaking the Pentagon should've happened earlier, but at least it happened when it did."
"Agreed. If you look at the map here, the Chinese have sacked Phoenix, Flagstaff, and crossed the border into California."
"Sacked?" asked Davis.
"Destroyed, Captain. As in completely razed to the ground. Phoenix and Flagstaff no longer exist. We're looking at a total loss—upwards of a million and a half casualties—almost all of them civilian."
"Oh, my God," Nella said, stepping back as if physically struck. He collected himself quickly. His face darkened. "We're damn well not going to let them get away with this. What countermeasure have been taken so far?"
"We've been doing the best we can—coordinating what units remain with NORAD—but we're thin on secure comms. Power supplies are failing all over the west as backup generators run out of fuel. The only thing keeping NORAD alive is its own nuke plant. Most of the units on the west coast are tied up fighting insurgencies spawned by the rebellion. Furthermore, the Russians are sending planes down from Alaska—"
"They took Alaska?" breathed Nella. "What about the SAC bases?"
"Luckily, we still control all SAC sites. They don't have our strategic arsenal. But outside of that, Russia's in almost complete control of the state of Alaska." Ross shook his head. "It happened faster than we thought possible—the bastards have obviously been planning this for some time."
"Of course they did—just like we planned to take Moscow during the Cold War. But we never did anything with those plans," grumbled Nella.
Ross continued: "They've been doing a fine job distracting our air assets all up and down the coast. It's kept us from putting up a concentrated effort against the Chinese. There's just too many of them and we're spread too thin. You hear that a lot around here lately," the general said, staring at the wall.
"Well not any more," growled Nella. "We’ll have an immediate council of war and decide the action to take. But I'm going to tell you right now, I think we ought to concentrate all our firepower against the Chinese and take care of them first. The Russians aren't landing troops, they're just harassing us." He looked at the map, arms crossed over his chest.
"If we take out the Chinese quickly, we can turn everything against the Russians and put a stop to their incursions into our airspace."
"That was the same idea I put forth when this initially started. You won't find much argument among the people here. The problem is that the Russians are stirring up more trouble in Florida."
"What?"
The general frowned, and the pointer shifted to the middle of the Sunshine State. "After they broke the Orlando-Tampa Line," he said, tracing a red line with his pointer east to west from Cape Canaveral to Tampa, "they went quiet. Our best intel suggests they are trying to consolidate their southern gains. Cuba is trying to ship reinforcements, but the blockade is having an effect."
"About God damn time," grumbled the admiral. "Is this accurate?" he asked, pointing at the positions of several warships.
"Yes, sir. It's updated in real-time."
Nella stepped closer and rubbed his chin. "Jonestown? What's she doing down there?"
"Sir," said Davis, stepping forward. "There's no subs on this map."
Nella turned to Ross and arched an eyebrow.
The general cleared his throat. "Ah, no—they're not listed on any map."
"They're dark? All of them?"
"Yes," said the general. "To be honest, we have a fair idea where a few of them are, but the rest have disappeared."
Nella smiled. "Well, it's about time something went our way. If the subs are dark and we still have at least a few carriers—"
"We have all the remaining carriers, Admiral Nella," Ross said as a point of pride. "Roosevelt is the only one offline."
Nella clapped Davis on the shoulder. "Now we're cookin' with gas."
As the two flag officers discussed the pros and cons of troop deployments and what it meant that the Russians weren't deploying and where they might go, Davis stood there, staring at the map. He imagined a line from Chicago to New York, then down the coast toward Philadelphia and south to Washington. Wherever Malcolm went, he left a trail of destruction in his wake.
"Excuse me, sirs but do we have contact with the Naval Air Station in Jacksonville?"
The general shook his head. "The Russians hit our air base in Tampa and JNAS also took it on the nose pretty hard. The commies didn't occupy Jacksonville, only knocked out the flight line, radar, and comms with air strikes."
"Then I recommend we send someone down there. Immediately."
Nella looked away from the map and regarded his carrier captain. "Explain."
"Sirs, we shouldn’t trust Malcolm or the rebels at all."
"Agreed," said the general.
"General, from what you said, the rebels are heading south to fight for Jones. General Stapleton's forces are hot on his heels."
"Correct," replied the general.
"Where are you going with this?" asked Nella, studying the map.
"Who's to say the rebels aren't going south to link up with the Rus
sians, who just happened to be waiting? The Russians know they can't take Stapleton in a head on fight—now that more of our assets are slipping through the European blockade…what if the 'peace treaty' is nothing but smoke and mirrors?"
"If that's the case, Stapleton could be walking into a trap—with a combined army including the rebels—" Ross began.
"What's their strength?" asked Nella.
"Anywhere from 10-20,000 effectives is our latest estimate."
"Good thinking, Davis," Nella said. "I think it would be prudent to send a significant detachment to Jacksonville and secure it ASAP. If nothing else, it's a training facility—they'll have plenty of JP8 for our fighters. Coordinate the efforts and report back—we'll need that aviation fuel."
"Yes, sir," Davis said, happy at last to be doing something. "I'll get a message to Stapleton."
"Good. Now, let's nail down the comms situation with area commanders out west," Nella said to the general, "and then you and I need to have a talk with the folks in A Ring."
Chapter 33
A Fine Speech
PO SIN STUBBED OUT his fourth post-lunch cigarette and leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers across his paunch. He stared at the TV screen opposite his desk in amazement. He never thought he'd see the day when the United States—once the bastion of liberty and democracy the world over—would devolve into a Banana Republic.
He chuckled to himself. "You see it now?" he asked, gesturing at the TV.
"I see," said the Minister of the Interior. "I see the Americans are in the throes of a coup. The timing could not be more advantageous to our venture."
Po laughed. "Well said! The Americans are tearing themselves apart. Even their own military has decided that fool in the White House has to go. I love it!"
Shin Ho failed to laugh along with his friend. His face crinkled into a frown. He held up a hand for silence. "Wait—listen. Turn it up."
Po Sin turned up the volume on the TV.
"…to that end, the officers of the Armed Forces of the United States, adhering to our oaths to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of United States against all enemies both foreign and domestic, do hereby declare the current president illegitimate and his power and authority nullified and void as of this moment."
The sparsely populated Senate chamber exploded with yells and clamor. Of the hundred seats available, barely 20 were occupied. It was a sad scene, made comical by the fact that one old senator threw a stack of papers in the air in protest.
Po Sin roared in laughter, pointing at the screen. "Fools! All of them fools!"
Shin Ho was not so easily persuaded. He continued to listen to the TV.
"… not dissolving the Congress of the United States."
Silence descended into the Senate chamber and Po Sin's office at the same time.
"What?" asked Po Sin
"…this august body has not been compromised in the manner of the Executive Branch. From the untimely death of President Reed to the usurpation of power by FEMA Director Hank Suthby, to his assassination and the subsequent seizing of power by Undersecretary Daniel Jones—what remained of Congress has for the most part resisted this disturbing trend. But the revolving door of dictator presidents must be stopped and it will be stopped and we will stop it. Right now."
After a moment the audience calmed down enough for the admiral with all his glittering medals to take the floor again. "Myself and General Stapleton, who's 4th Division now occupies Washington, D.C. itself, declare as of this moment Daniel Jones to be an enemy of the state. Every executive order issued by him and his predecessor Hank Suthby are declared null, void, and non-binding upon any American in uniform or civilian. Only those acts and resolutions passed by Congress in accordance with the Constitution itself will henceforth be considered valid."
"Well, that is interesting," Shin Ho said, leaning back in his chair.
"Yes, but what does it mean? That's a lot of lawyer-speak for an admiral," Po Sin observed. "They just removed the president, but they left Congress in power. That's not how you run a dictatorship. Don't these Americans know anything?"
Shin Ho nodded, deep in thought. "Congress, judging by what's on the screen, is barely able to function. It doesn't look like they have more than a handful able to attend this…event."
"Sssh—the general is talking," muttered Po Sin.
"…leave it then to this body to decide when and how to select the next pro tem President of the United States. If in Congress' judgment this is not a valid option, we leave it to Congress itself to decide how and when to hold special elections for determining the fate of the Executive Branch."
The Senate chamber erupted again with shouts and screams, accusations and questions. The press pool was almost as loud as the members of Congress themselves.
The old admiral in dress whites raised his hands for silence. When he was finally able to speak, his voice rang loud and clear. "At this time, the United States is under direct invasion from the People's Republic of China in the southwest—"
Shin Ho gasped.
"—the Russian Federation in the southeast, as well as an undeclared rebellion that President Reed was attempting to quell at the start of the collapse. General Stapleton and I depart now to secure the borders of the United States. We leave the fate of our country in your hands. Our staff will be on hand to answer any and all questions you may have for us. That is all."
More shouts and screams echoed through the ornate Senate chamber as the admiral and general turned and marched off the stage shoulder to shoulder. They wore their finest dress uniforms, ribbons and medals gleaming in the reporters' lights. Soldiers secured the doors to the Senate Chambers and saluted as the two officers made their exit. It made a fine spectacle.
Po Sin turned the TV off and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "I have to admit, I did not expect this."
Shin Ho stood abruptly. "I must ponder my official position regarding this news. This changes everything."
Po Sin jumped out of his chair. "This changes nothing! The Americans can do nothing about us—our Russian friends have been controlling the air along their Pacific coast all the way to Alaska now for months. Their air defense network is spread so thin due to the loss of their satellites they can't possibly coordinate any effective action against us. Now is not the time to retreat but to press forward and throw everything we have into the fray. If we succeed in cutting the southwest apart from the rest of the country and link up with our resupply fleet, we will have accomplished our mission and divided the United States."
"And where is the fleet?" asked Shin Ho.
"The next wave is nearly across the Pacific, just offshore what’s left of Los Angeles. Once we have landed a sizable civilian population, they will have no choice but to cede us control of the land. If the Russians hold out long enough in Florida, we may be able to take over all the Pacific Northwest as well!" Po Sin said vehemently. "We can't stop now! The only way to certain victory is forward!"
Shin Ho stared at his old friend with a sad look. "I wish I shared your optimism. I will keep you informed."
The door to Po Sin's office shut softly after Shin Ho.
"See that you do!" Po Sin hissed.
He straightened his jacket, adjusted his tie, then reached for another cigarette. After the first calming breath of nicotine soothed his rattled nerves, he organized his chaotic thoughts. There was a way he could spin this to his own benefit, he knew it—he just had to find it and exploit it. And if there was one thing Po Sin was good at, it was exploiting events to his own advantage.
He smiled through the smoke wreathing his head.
Chapter 34
Rolling South
GENERAL STAPLETON FROWNED AS he stared down at the map spread before him covering the hood of an abandoned car. He looked up and squinted at the sign proclaiming the rest stop—now filled with civilian refugees—to be one mile down the interstate.
We’re moving too damn slow.
&nbs
p; He knew staying behind to coddle Congress with Nella would cost him valuable time. He knew it. He also knew it had been the right thing to do—to reassure the politicians that he and Nella were not planning on taking over the country and dividing it up amongst themselves as dictators.
But God damn if it didn't slow me down just enough to let this bastard escape. Again.
"I don't understand how he's moving so fast," complained one of his aides.
"It's not him, it’s the civilians. They're slowing us down at every turn. Everywhere he goes, this army of his—” said his Stryker Combat Brigade Team Commander.
"Horde," growled the general. He looked up at the major who'd spoken. "I will not dignify this rebellion with the word 'army'. It is a horde he commands, nothing more, nothing less. They are barbarians."
The reprimanded major nodded. "Of course, sir. But it's still the civilians that are causing us the problems," the young officer said.
"Go on," he growled, looking down at the map.
“There's just too many civilians in the way. What we were able to accomplish, the speed with which we left New York City and arrived in Philadelphia—it's going to be impossible from here on out I think."
"I concur," added Bob Vinsen. The colonel in charge of Stapleton's armored cavalry crossed his arms. "The civvies are choking the roads with cars and when they see us on the horizon they panic and flee, leaving everything in place. My Bradleys are having a hard enough time clearing the roads. Throw in hundreds of thousands of panicked civvies and it's a recipe for disaster."
Stapleton circled the capitol on the map with his finger. "Gentlemen, we are exactly 15 miles south of Washington. We know Malcolm has already pushed through and he's a good six hours ahead of us by now."
"Closer to twelve, sir," said the commanding officer of the army's air wing. "I've got his rear elements under constant Kiowa surveillance."
Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) Page 19