Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (30 page)

"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

P
O
S
IN
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 4
th
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

G
ENERAL
S
TAPLETON
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.
 

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."

"Don't stretch yourself too thin," replied Stapleton.
 
"Our supply line won't last forever. We’re going to need air support when we catch these bastards and the shooting starts."

"Roger that, sir, we'll start phasing out the helos with drones."

Stapleton stood back and pulled a cigar out of his mouth, fists on his hips. "Now, seems to me these fools don't have much of a plan other than following 95 south as far and fast as they can go. They are purposely misleading the local populations into thinking we're going to slaughter everyone in our path."

"It's the only way to explain why the civvies collectively lose their shit when we show up, but not when
they
show up," muttered Vinsen.
 
"It's not like we're the ones who set Philly on fire."

Stapleton frowned. Shelling Philadelphia had been unfortunate, but necessary. If he hadn't attacked, he wouldn't have been able to link up with Nella in Washington.

And yet that son of a bitch Jones slipped away too, another in a long string of failures.

Stapleton jabbed his finger at the map as if the force of the gesture
 
could propel them on to victory through sheer willpower alone. "We've got to gain ground. I don't care what it takes, as long as we can avoid civilian casualties, we've got to push through."

Vinsen shook his head immediately. "About half my force has to be transported on flatbeds—the other half has to move on its own power, which slows us all down. The roads are taking a beating—”

"To hell with the roads!" said Stapleton, slamming his fist down on the hood of the car. "If your tanks tear up a few streets on the way south, then so be it. I want maximum speed in this, Bob. We can worry about rebuilding the roads after we stop this rebellion. Tear up whatever you have to, just get those tanks moving."

Vinsen nodded, a grim look on his face. "Yes, sir."

"If we have to, we can use the Black Hawks to ferry troops.
 
Maybe jump out in front of them…we've got to slow them down," suggested the general.

"Carrying soldiers, equipment, and fuel…to get ahead of Malcolm and disable the roads…"
 
The commander of the air wing shook his head slowly. "It'll be close, sir—we'll deplete a
lot
of our reserves. I'm not sure it's feasible."

Stapleton nodded, thoughtfully. "Fine. Run some numbers and get back to me by sundown. I want best estimates. We've got to have options here, people."

Vinsen step forward. "I have an idea. It calls for splitting up my tanks, but it might give us the edge we need to gain ground."

"I'm all ears," Stapleton growled around his cigar.

Vinsen nodded and placed his hands on the map, framing Washington and the interstates that fed the city like lifelines. "I can jump across to 1—from what the scouts are telling us, it's mostly empty."

"That's right, most of the civilians fleeing the city aren't bothering to get off 95, they're just getting off on whatever road they can and getting the hell out of Dodge," added the aviation brigade commander.

Vinsen nodded. "Right. So I take what tanks I can on flatbeds and transport them south on 1. We can merge back here—near Fredericksburg."
 
He adjusted his finger to point at the intersection of 95 and 1.

"Other options?" asked Stapleton.
 
He didn't exactly like the idea of splitting up the Division.

"We've got minesweepers that I can hook onto my leading Abrams—we can roll through any abandoned civvie vehicles like a hot knife through butter."
 
Vinsen shrugged.
 
"It'll be a lot faster than the Strykers ever could clear the road. I'll have to put a handful of my M1s out of commission through wear and tear, but it won't lower the overall combat effectiveness of the unit. I think it'll be acceptable for what we face."

"Is this feasible?" Stapleton asked the others. He waited as the brightest of his staff leaned over and examine maps, making calculations and muttering amongst themselves.

The consensus was it would work and they might gain at least half a day on Malcolm.
 
That would be enough to pin him down.