The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga (4 page)

"Bullshit!" said the Chairman.
 
"The Chinese are nothing more than well-funded, cultured, terrorists.
 
The only thing they recognize is brute force.
 
Right now, we are showing neither."

"Mr. President," said the Chief of Staff of the Navy, a gaunt, bird-like Vice Admiral James Price.
 
"We only have sporadic contact with most of the Navy.
 
The loss of our satellite communications has been all but crippling.
 
I can't guarantee how effective our surface warfare units will be if we enter into a long-term engagement with China.
 
North Korea we can handle, but…"

"Oh hell,"
 
sighed Gen. Vidua.
 
"Not you, too?"

“Look,” shot back Adm. Price, “we don’t have secure comms with the fleet—if we sent them in half-cocked now, we could risk losing more than just our naval strength.
 
Without the Fleet, we’ve got no close-in protection for the west coast…”

Barron glanced at Jayne as the Chiefs of Staff devolved into a shouting match over whether or not to strike back at North Korea.
 
She replied with an infinitesimal shrug of her shoulders.
 
Even she wasn’t perfect when it came to selecting Cabinet officials, it seemed.
 
Some part of the President was actually glad for that.

"John, you think I like this situation?"
 
asked Adm. Price.
 
He spoke in a quiet voice but it carried unmistakable authority.

"Gentlemen, please!" intervened the Director of Health and Human Services, Sharon Mills. the high-pitched voice of the head of the Department of Health and Human Services.
 
"Mr. President," she said, "no one will disagree that the North Korean presence represents a grave threat to the national security of the United States.
 
Their position with China makes this whole situation all the more dangerous.
 
However, we can't lose track of this flu—"

"Oh, come off it, Sharon!”
 
said the Chairman.
 
"This flu drama has been blown out of proportion.
 
From what I can tell, it doesn't seem to be any more deadly than the seasonal flu we see every year."

"That's not accurate, General and you know it!"

"All right people, settle down.
 
Before I was… Before I took ill," the President said,
 
"I was under the impression that while serious, the mystery flu wasn’t exactly apocalyptic.
 
It seemed like an awful lot of people caught it and got sick, but when you looked at the numbers, it was only the people who’d had no exposure to the Great Pandemic who’ve died."

"Mr. President," said the image of the National Security Advisor, Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, Maricella Sosa.
 
Her face looked pinched and pale, a dramatic departure from normal.
 
"Americans are dying!
 
They’re dying in greater numbers than they have since the Great Pandemic.
 
Yes, it appears that the people who are most affected are those with no immunity to that particular strain—"

"And how many people is that, Maricella?
 
Hell, damn near the entire world got sick ten years ago!" snapped the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

"Since this crisis began, we have lost over a thousand Americans!" Assistant Sosa snapped back.
 
"We lose around 30,000 people a year to the seasonal flu.
 
Over a thousand deaths in one week is way above normal.
 
I don't know about you, General, but I don't consider losing that many Americans to a bio-weapon attack to be so inconsequential!"

The President was aghast.
 
A thousand!
 
"All right, everyone calm down.
 
Where are we getting these numbers, Maricella?”

The National Security Advisor shuffled her papers.
 
"We're relying mostly on self-reporting from the governors that we've been able to contact.
 
That doesn't account for Texas, Florida, and a few of the New England states.
 
We haven't heard anything from them since the beginning of the satellite issues."

"And if this thing should happen to have an antigen shift—"

"Stop right there, Sharon,"
 
said the President to the image of the Director of the Department of Health and Human Services.
 
“Do we have any evidence of that happening?"

"No, Mr. President, at this time we do not," interjected Gen. Vidua.

“Based on the death toll, it seems likely it has.
 
We need to be prepared to—” began Assistant Sosa.

The President raised his hand for silence.
 
"Are we doing everything in our power—right now—to help those who are infected and contain the spread of the virus?"

"Yes, sir, I believe we are.
 
Homeland Security has sent out as much information as they can to the governors for distribution to the general population.
 
We've asked for bans on public gatherings, strongly suggested people stay in their homes, encouraged people to avoid traveling…"

"So basically we’re just re-instituting everything we tried during the Great Pandemic?" asked the President.

"Yes, sir.
 
At this point, what we did in the later stages of The Pandemic is probably the best course of action.
 
We think shutting down public gatherings and keeping people in their homes stopped the spread of the flu ten years ago—"

"I know it was too-little, too-late back then, but this time we're ready for it and we have everything in place," added Director Mills.
 

"Except the vaccine," grumbled Gen. Vidua.
 
"Funny how the CDC is suddenly out of commission right when we need them the most."

"What are you suggesting, General?" asked Assistant Sosa.

The President clenched his jaw to keep from gasping in shock.
 
Atlanta.
 
The nuclear strike from the rogue sub.
 
The North Koreans—Reginald—had used his authorization codes to hack into the submarine’s command center and launch a nuclear strike.
 
Over a million Americans had died.
 
The greatest catastrophe—man-made or natural—in American history and his bloody fingerprints were all over it.

“I think it’s clear," the President said in an effort to redirect the conversation, “that we’re doing everything possible to combat the flu.
 
That said, I believe the North Korean problem should be our highest priority right now.”

"Thank you, sir," said Gen. Vidua.
 
"Now, if you'd like, I have some recommendations—"

Jayne cleared her throat and the room fell silent.
 
All eyes shifted to her.
 
A rising wave of irritation struggled to burst forth from the President, but he clamped down on it—he hoped—without revealing his inner turmoil.
 

He was the President of the United States.
 
Someone making a simple sound such as clearing her throat should not bring a heated debate between high-level Cabinet members to a screeching halt.
 
He glanced at Jayne and saw the delicate painted nails pressed to her lips as if she were genuinely surprised that everyone had fallen silent.
 

At her command.

"I don't mean to interrupt," she said sweetly, “but it just seems to me that while the flu is a pressing matter and the Koreans are a problem, we can't lose sight of what's going on throughout the rest of the country."

"Madam Chief of Staff," began Adm. Price, “if you're referring to your martial law request—"

"I am, my dear Admiral, indeed I am.
 
I tasked you gentlemen with creating action plans.
 
I’d like to know if you followed through on my request?"

The President arched an eyebrow at Jayne.
 
She merely smiled.

"I've had my people do some looking into your requests," said the Secretary Brooks.
 
He pulled a paper from his briefcase and slid it across to the President.
 
"As you can see, sir, the legality of using American troops to enforce martial law is at best questionable.
 
At worst, it's a gross violation of the Constitution—"

"Oh," gasped Jayne, “you mean that antiquated document that was invalidated and suspended by order of President Barron?"
 
She put a hand on the President's arm.
 
"I thought we were beyond all this?"

Secretary Brooks cleared his throat.
 
"Yes, well, we've done some research…and discovered that should you in fact give that order, sir, we might be facing a significant revolt from inside the military.
 
Quite frankly, I'm worried that we would be able to enforce any law after that.”
 
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
 
"We're seeing some heavy defection rates from the Army…"

"And don't forget that almost the entire Marine Corps has switched sides," said Adm. Price.
 
"It's disgraceful and I never would have guessed that General Rykker would have turned traitor, but there you have it…"

"Gentlemen, this is all the more reason we need to enforce the martial law decree,and do it now,” Jayne said.
 
She leaned over the table, exposing her assets for the cameras.
 
The President saw the immediate effect.
 
Gen. Vidua flushed with color and Adm. Price averted his eyes.
 
Secretary Brooks, easily the youngest man in the room, stared unabashedly at Jayne's chest.

"There will be no need to use the military in this capacity."

That was more like it.
 
He’d hardly spoken louder than a whisper, yet the room fell completely silent.
 
He had everyone’s attention.
 
That's right, he thought, I'm the President of the United States.
 
When I speak, you shut the fuck up and listen.
 
I'm the one who makes the rules here, not her.
 
Not anymore.

"I seem to recall issuing an Executive Order a while back that placed all of the security forces of the various agencies of the federal government under my direct control.”

"Yes, my love, but—" Jayne said in a tremulous voice as she squeezed his hand.

The President continued without pause.
 
"I suggest it's time we use them.
 
I want to avoid any entanglements with the Constitution—I know, I know," he said with a raised hand, "I'm the one who signed the Executive Order suspending the Constitution and granting near-sovereign rights to the United Nations—but that doesn't mean that solution is permanent.
 

“I have every intention of restoring the Constitution in my term of office.
 
I see no reason to anger any further our more conservative citizens
 
by declaring martial law.
 
Even though it's good for the country and quite possibly necessary for our survival.
 
There's no point in making the reconciliation all the more difficult when we get past this mess.
 
Is there?"

No one said a word.
 
Jayne squeezed his hand.
 
Suddenly her touch felt repulsive.
 
Her squeeze, most assuredly meant to convey comfort or to warn him to back off, felt nothing more than a desperate attempt to regain control.
 
He removed his hand from hers and placed it on the table.
 
"I asked a question people.
 
I expect an answer."

"Oh," said Assistant Sosa, “of course not, sir.
 
I think your idea has merit—especially in terms of maintaining what law and order we can during this crisis."

General Vidua sighed.
 
"Well, I for one can't say that I'm upset about avoiding conflicts over the whole posse comitatus problem.
 
We have few enough people who are loyal to us at the moment to worry about trying to police the entire country.
 
I think it's a good idea, sir."

"Absolutely," said Admiral Price.

The Chief of Staff of the Army, Major General Eugene Kuhlman looked relieved.
 
"Of course.
 
The agency security forces have seen a lot more day-to-day contact with the public lately.
 
More so than the military.
 
Let them handle it."

"But…" stammered Jayne.
 
"Even in peacetime, federal agencies hate each other.
 
Look at the FBI and the CIA.
 
They can't get along under the best of circumstances—how are we going to force them all to cooperate now?"

The President turned and regarded Jayne with a cool gaze.
 
"Well my dear, for starters, because I said so."
 
He had to force himself not to smile
 
at Jayne’s consternation.
 
It only lasted for a split second, but it was there and he’d seen it—the first chink in her armor.

"Well, yes, of course…" she said, her eyes suddenly downcast.
 
"What I meant was—"

“On top of that," the President said turning his attention back to the Joint Chiefs and his Cabinet officials, "it's already the law, thanks to my Executive Order.
 
What we need now is someone to enforce the law.
 
Like…a security czar."

"A czar, sir?
 
We have hundreds of those—they've never done anything worthwhile in the past.
 
It's just a title," grumbled Jayne.