Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (13 page)

“These guerrilla fighters are having more of an impact than you led me to believe.”

Po Sin grunted and tried to affect an air of nonchalance.
 
“Mere flies in the face of the dragon.
 
They are of little consequence.”

Shin Ho stared at his friend over the top of the grisly reports.
 
“Ten dead here, twenty there, five over here…the numbers are adding up and they just don’t stop.
 
They’re not giving our people a chance to rest and recuperate.”

Po Sin grunted.
 
"The remnants of the vigilante group we slaughtered in Arizona.
 
These Regulators."

"
Vigilantes
," Shin Ho spat.
 
"Brigands.
 
We killed their leaders and most of their people.
 
Our artillery wiped their pathetic mountain fortress off the face of the earth—and yet the survivors
still
torment us.
 
They refuse to give up."

Po Sin frowned, hiding his expression behind his report.
 
Of course not, you fool, we’re invading their country.
 
Our people would do the same if their roles were reversed.

“Our plans are stagnating as more and more of these groups appear out of nowhere.”

Po Sin dropped the paper and lit a cigarette despite the ‘no smoking’ sign on Shin Ho’s desk.
 
“Inconveniences, nothing more.”
 
He blew a puff of smoke up over the desk.

Shin Ho grunted.
 
“Inconveniences.
 
I hardly think the families of our slain will agree.”

Po Sin held the cigarette an inch from his mouth.
 
“Since when do we care about what their families think?
 
Those boys were proud to serve the People.
 
They should be proud their sons died for the People.”

Shin Ho shook his head slowly.
 
“So cynical.”

Po Sin blew more smoke into the air, creating a blue-gray barrier in the space between them.
 
“So naïve to think they can actually win.”

“What are your plans to stop these guerrillas?
 
They call themselves—”

Po Sin leaned forward to rub out his cigarette on Shin Ho's desk.
 
“I couldn't care less what they call themselves.
 
Regulators, Ghosts…they are
barbarians
.
 
Nothing more.
 
We will
crush
them.”

Shin Ho stared at the pile of ash and the crumpled cigarette on his desk.
 
“That’s your plan?
 
‘Crush them’?”

Po Sin stood.
 
"Call it your plan if you like—you took control of this operation.
 
You'll get all the glory, anyway.
 
I suppose it's only fair for me to share in the blame.”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Po Sin paused at the door and pulled another cigarette from his silver case. He held it unlit between two fingers and examined it.
 
Even he wouldn’t risk walking down the corridor with a lit cigarette.
 
The younger generation of staffers would be all too quick to report the unauthorized vice to the Party snitches.

In the good old days…

“I asked you a question, Minister.”

Aren’t you high and mighty?
 
Three steps below the Supreme Leader and you think you're suddenly his right-hand man.
 
“I go to study the reports in detail so that I may present you with an updated plan, Honorable Minister,” Po Sin said, bowing deeply.
 
He stood, replaced the cigarette and snapped the case shut.

“While you’re at it, work up an exit strategy for me to present to the Supreme Leader.”

Po Sin froze, his hand on the doorknob.
 
Perfect!
 
He looked back, feigning confusion.
 
“Exit strategy?
 
What are you talking about?”

Shin Ho sighed.
 
He suddenly seemed ten years older.
 
“The Supreme Leader is no longer fully confident in our ability to attain victory over the Americans.
 
He wants a way to withdraw and save face.”

Po Sin returned to his seat.
 
This is too good to be true.
 
If things fall apart, you will get the blame.
 
“Hmmm.”
 
Po Sin leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
 
“Have you reached out to that weakling in the White House?”

It was Shin Ho's turn to look confused.
 
“Jones?
 
No.
 
Why?
 
He is nothing but an usurper.
 
Our agents
 
report he will not long sit in the Oval Office.
 
They are close to finding the next in line.”

Must I spell it out for you?
“He is in a position of weakness.”

“We are too—”

“But
he
doesn’t know that." Po Sin pursed his lips, trying to appear thoughtful.
 
"See if you can negotiate a truce, or even better: a peace treaty.
 
Something to give us breathing room to resupply the expedition.
 
Give them time to reach the coast and establish the beach head for the Second Wave.
 
If we can last until they arrive on shore, it’ll be too late for the Americans to do anything.”

Shin Ho grunted.
 
“Perhaps."
 
He drummed his fingers on the wide desk, staring at the crumpled cigarette in the corner.
 
Finally he nodded.
 
"Yes.
 
It might work.
 
Especially if we can convince the Russians to expand their conquered territory.
 
That would focus most of the attention on the East Coast.”
 
He looked up at Po Sin and smiled.
 
“It just might work.”
 
He reached for his phone.
 

“Wei?
 
Yes.
 
Get me the President of the United States."
 
He grinned at Po Sin.
 
"Yes, I understand what time it is—he will want to speak with me, I promise.
 
Thank you.”

Po Sin stood and offered a sincere bow this time.
 
“I will leave you to it.”
 
He smiled to himself as he left the Minister’s office.
 

I’ve given you plenty of rope.
 
Let’s see if you can manage to hang yourself, old friend.

Chapter 14

Pressure

A
YOUNG
STAFFER
OPENED
the door to the President's office and smiled, delivering a stack of papers. "Morning briefing's here, sir."

Daniel looked up from the maps spread out on his desk. He'd been closely following the trail of Stapleton and his army as they headed south out of New York.
 
What's your name?
 
"Ah…you seem to be in a good mood."

"I know we’re not supposed to read the briefing notes before you get them, sir, but Tom dropped it when he handed it to me and we had to put all the pages back and I saw—”

Daniel smiled and took this stack of papers. "Don't worry about it. Let's see what we have for today, shall we?"

The first page had a brief note about the Rebels.
 
The number of casualties estimated in New York City was staggering.
 
The second page held a brief damage estimate.

Daniel whistled. "That's a lot of zeros…" New York City had sustained a tremendous amount of damage. It was about the equivalent of having two major hurricanes strike the city back to back. Trying to find funds to help pay for that was a headache in the making.

He scrolled through the document, looking whatever it was that had brought a smile to his staffer's face.
 
In big bold letters, the report explained how the outer suburbs of Philadelphia had received power—reliable, stable power—and that PECO predicted the entire city have power by the end of the month.

Daniel's face lit up. If Malcolm could delay Stapleton for even a few days—just to prevent him from getting inside the city—he might find the citizens of Philadelphia to be useful allies against the rogue general.
 
Based on how Malcolm's people had thus far behaved, Philly would welcome Stapleton with open arms.
 

There was a lot of uncertainties, but by the time they could be worked out, he might just save Philadelphia the fate that had befallen New York and Chicago.

The phone on his desk rang before he could finish the thought.

He noticed which line had flashed—the secure line from his switchboard. That could be good or bad. He looked up at the staffer. "I'm sorry," he said, gesturing at the door.
 
"This one's private."

"Of course, sir," she said, nodding as she backed out of the room.

He hit the button activating the line after the door had closed.
"Mr. President?
" asked his secretary in a high voice.

My God, this one sounds like she's in high school. I have to find somebody more suitable than her.
He would've loved it if Shaniqua had decided to stay on after President Reed's death, but she'd been fiercely loyal to the old man and hated Suthby with a passion. After she left, they'd gone through two more switchboard operators before they settled on the new girl, Marylyn Kretch.
 

"Yes, Marylyn."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I have a Russian General Kristanoff on the phone?"

"Kristanoff…that name sounds familiar…" Daniel muttered to himself.

"He was the commanding general of their forces in New York, sir."

Shit. Of course he would be the first phone call I get today
. "Okay, Marylyn, go ahead and put him through. I was expecting this call."
 
He waited for the line to
click
, establishing the connection.
 

"General Kristanoff! Let me be the first to offer my sincere condolences on the loss of—"

"Spare me the theatrics, Mr. President. We both know you care nothing for my men."

Daniel cleared his throat.
Here we go.
"If there is anything I can do—"

"You can destroy Stapleton!"

Daniel thought for a moment. "I assure you, general there is nothing I would like more in the world than to destroy that rogue general. If it's of any consequence, I would like to offer you the opportunity to hunt down and destroy—"
 

Kristanoff laughed.
 
"
With what men? My army has been annihilated, no small thanks to Stapleton and your navy. This was a trap! Betrayal!"

"Absolutely
not
, general!" Daniel protested. "None of us saw this happening. We had no idea where that aircraft carrier was, let alone that it would attempt to link up with Stapleton in New York! I assure you!"

Kristanoff snorted his derision.
 
"Your assurances mean nothing."

Daniel thought for a moment. "General Stapleton is proving more resourceful than I'd anticipated. However, I believe he has another target in mind. His original mission was to destroy the rebellion—"

"I care nothing for your rebellion! My concern is vengeance. I will be transferring what remains of my command south to our bases in Florida.
 
There I plan to link up with loyal comrades. I have been assured by Moscow that any further meddling in our affairs by your administration or those under your command will result in the strictest of reprisals."

"What exactly you do you mean, general?"

"It seems Moscow has other plans for the United States, Mr. President. And we will not let this outrage go unpunished!"

The general disconnected before Daniel could reply.
 
"Well, that went…well."
 

He sighed and rubbed his head. It was too early in the morning for this. Turning his attention back to the briefing, the next item brought a smile to his face. Power was being restored throughout a number of cities west of the ruins of Chicago. Des Moines was the largest on the list of those that had power reestablished.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Thank God they were finally getting a handle on the power outage.
Now if I can just take care of Malcolm and General Stapleton…and what was left of that carrier battlegroup…and the Russians…

Daniel massaged his temples again.
One thing at a time.
Stapleton was going to be a thorn in his side for a while. There wasn't much he could do about that. Most of the armed forces were still loyal to President Reed's memory and were either still returning—and had seen what happened to the rest of the country—or were those that had rebelled against their commanding officers during the transition. About the only thing he could say for the military was that they were playing a waiting game to see what happened.

Relations with the Russians would go a long way toward sealing the fate of the country one way or the other. If the Russians attacked, it was more than likely the military would fallen step behind him. If the Russians were allies and were allowed to maintain control over the parts of Florida they’d conquered, he would see more and more desertions by the military.
 
He sighed.

It would only be a matter of time before someone in Congress stepped up and claimed to be the legitimate heir under Reed's continuity of government orders.

Suthby had sent people loyal to him in search of the Vice President, the Speaker of the House and the others in the chain of command. But so far that mission had only turned up the Secretary of the Department of Education.
 
Though she was a good ways down the list, her legitimacy far outranked his own.