Sic Semper Tyrannis (11 page)

“
Peace?
” laughed Malcolm.  “
Surely you jest, sir.  There can be no peace between our peoples now.  It has gone too far.
”

“You
have pushed it too far!” retorted Suthby, gripping the phone with white knuckles.  The outburst caused a wave of silence to ripple through the room.  Suthby cleared his throat and turned his back on the others, trying to regain his composure.  “We did not instigate this rebellion—this nation was attacked by terrorists and you and your people took advantage of the chaos to raise the flag of rebellion.  Need I remind you what happened to the losers the last time there was a rebellion in this country?”

Malcolm laughed politely.  “
Idle threats do not impress me, Mr. Acting-President.  Perhaps if you acted more like a President than an acting-President
…”

“Fine, if not peace, how about a truce?  Just a little time for everyone to collect their breaths and help the wounded.  I’m dealing with an actual invasion in the southwest and quite frankly, I’m losing my patience with you people.”

“’
You people’.  You see?  Even when you try to hold out the carrot of peace, you lash out with the whip of prejudice.  You people.  You ought to be ashamed, Mr. Acting-President.
”

“Stop calling me that!”

“
What should I call you?  Mr. Suthby?  Massah?
”

“Malcolm, please—”

“
Beg to someone else, Mr. Acting-President.  You will get no sympathy or agreements from me.  I will accept only unconditional freedom.  And until such time as you are prepared to leave my nation
—”

“Your nation?  This is the United States of America—we’re all Americans—”

“
And some of us are more American than others, correct?  I’ve read the book, Mr. Acting-President.  Do not waste any more of my time.  I know you are in no position to dictate terms to me.  I have heard—as anyone with radio gear can—how the Russians are even now about to conquer Florida and the southeast.  You cannot fight everyone at the same time.  I suggest you leave my people alone.
”

The line went dead.

Suthby struggled for more than a few minutes to keep from throwing the phone across the room.  Malcolm was right, in a away.  He needed to act like the President, not a Secretary who was known for angry outbursts.  Presidents don’t explode at the drop of a hat.  They face each new crisis with a calm, level head, then use a plan—or the military—to utterly destroy their opponents, and do it with class.

At least, that’s what Suthby had always thought.

Maybe that prick Stapleton isn’t such a bad guy to have around.  I can’t let him get away with ignoring my authority…but he could be useful now.
  Suthby leaned back in his plush leather chair and stared at a map on the far wall as the staffers fell silent and watched.  He rubbed his chin in thought and mulled over what to do next. 

Stapleton was threatening to go rogue and attack New York.  Malcolm was refusing to even talk about peace, believing the country to be on the brink of collapse.  The Russians and their U.N. cronies were causing all kinds of headaches in the southeast.  His eyes shifted to the long border with Mexico.  The sporadic reports from Arizona and New Mexico were disturbing, to say the least.  Migrants flooding back into Mexico, armies moving north, cities burning—no one really knew what the hell was going on but everyone agreed whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Suthby let his gaze wander back to New York.  First things first.  
All right, Malcolm.  Have it your way.  I’m going to turn Stapleton loose on you and we’ll see what your tune is in a few days.

CHAPTER 7

Run and Gun

SERGEANT PINNER BROUGHT THE M-ATV to a tire chirping stop just outside the outpost’s command building.  Ted and Erik threw open their rear-opening suicide doors and hopped out.

“Captain Williams in there?” Ted shouted to a surprised guard.  The soldier saluted.

“Yes, sir.”

Erik followed Ted through the open door and into a stirred-up hornets’ nest of activity.  Command staff scrambled around the room with reports, radios, and phones.  Orders were issued, reports received, confirmations shouted back and forth—it was chaos.

Erik spotted Captain Williams’ long face across the room and grabbed Ted’s shoulder.  “There!” he said, pointing.

Ted and Erik rushed to their commander. “Sir,” said Ted with a half-hearted salute.  “The Russians are advancing in force from the coast—”

“Yes, we’ve been tracking them.”  He signed an order for a lieutenant who rushed off into the throng.

“Sir, we have to evacuate the—”

“I am aware of the situation, Major.  Calm yourself.”

“Captain, I think we need to—” said Ted in exasperation.

“I said I’m aware of the situation,
Major
.”

“But—” said Erik.

Captain Williams shot Erik a withering look and gestured for them to follow him into his private office.  Once inside, with the door muffling the roar from the next room, Captain Williams sighed.  He ran a hand through his close cropped hair and absently motioned for Ted and Erik to sit in the camp stools opposite his makeshift desk.  They sat, the Captain stood.

“Sir,” began Ted again, unstrapping his helmet.  “We—”

“I realize that Lieutenant Larsson here is not used to the Army way of life, so I’ll cut him some slack.  But I don’t
ever
want to hear either of you question me in front of anyone—let alone the command staff,” he said with a tired gesture towards the door. “If you disagree with my orders, you talk to me in private.  Understood?”

Erik felt his cheeks flush.  The heat radiating from his face made him look down.

“Son, look at me when I’m talking to you,” said Captain Williams in a not-unkind voice.

Erik looked up.  “I’m sorry—I mean, yes, sir,” he said.  To be honest he wasn’t sure what else to say so he sat in silence and watched his commanding officer.  Not for the first time, he began to regret joining the Army.

“Sir, leaving aside the Lieutenant’s etiquette,” said Ted in a too-proper, formal voice Erik had never heard before.  “The Russians are moving inland from the coast.  We’ve got a heavily armored advance element on our asses—no more than 4 hours behind us.”

Captain Williams collapsed into his chair and rested his elbows on his desk.  He glanced at the papers strewn about in front of him.  Erik watched the man pick up a random report and adjust the distance the paper was from his eyes before he started reading.

“That’s bad news, Major.  But unfortunately, not the worst of it.  This report here informs me that what you boys have been dealing with is just a splinter off the main trunk.   The combined Russian-Cuban army is rolling north through the center of the state.  Word is, there’s been an on-going air battle south of here.  Air National Guard has been giving them hell, but we’re just plain outnumbered.  They have more planes, more missiles, more everything.”

“This is
our
country, sir, how is that possible?  I mean, even with all the problems we’re facing, this isn’t Bosnia for cryin’ out loud.  It’s
America
,” blurted Erik. 

The Captain looked at Erik and smiled sadly.  He picked up a report and scanned the top page.  “Son, most of our forces are still overseas, spread all over the damn world.  They’re trying to come back—but only a few units have made it back so far.  From what I hear, they had to hijack airliners.”  He looked at Erik over the top of the report.  “Can you believe that shit?”

“Where, sir?” asked Ted.  “Where are the Russians headed?  Tampa?”

“Here,” said Captain Williams, dropping the report with a flourish.  “Orlando.”

Ted’s eyes went round.  “Jesus Christ, sir.  We’ve got to get the civilians out of here!”  He jumped to his feet.

“Sit down, Major,” Captain Williams said without looking up.  When Ted remained standing, Captain Williams glanced at him and said in a quiet, dangerous tone, “Sit
down
, soldier.”

Ted sat, but the glare of defiance on his face more than proclaimed his insult at being called a ‘soldier’.

“I’ve been ordered by Colonel West to hold the eastern suburbs of Orlando and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.  The safest thing for our civilians is to remain close to us, in the outskirts.  The Russians are coming from the south—” he looked at Erik, “and the east.  But we have reinforcements arriving right now from Tampa.”

“But…I thought we barely had Tampa contained.  From the riots, I mean.  If we pull off troops, the rebels will just take over, right?” asked Erik.  “Sir?”

“Probably,” muttered the Captain.  “But the Colonel and his superiors think otherwise.  So, orders are orders.”

“But…you’re the commanding officer here!” said Erik.  “You’re the one in charge—”

“I appreciate your respect for my rank, Lieutenant, but I assure you, just because I am in command of this outpost and the scouts who man it, I am just a small cog in the machine.”

“Captain, our families—”

“My
family is
south
of here,” said Captain Williams.  “In no man’s land.  Do not think for a second I don’t know what’s going to happen when Ivan gets here.  Do you think I have no sympathy for your situation, Major?”  His voice, though stern, held an edge of understanding to it.  Erik looked down at the helmet in his hands and simply wished to hold Brin again.

“Look,” sighed the Captain.  “I’m going to need every man I’ve got to do this—I believe we can and we
will
hold Orlando.  And you’re one of the best I’ve got left, Major.”  He gazed at Ted for a moment.  “So I’ll do this for you—take an hour or two and go see your families.  Make sure they know where the safe zones are and say your goodbyes.  Do what you need to, but get your heads on straight—” he looked at Erik. 
“Both
of you.  Then get your asses into the bush and find those Russians before they find us.  I heard about your delaying action in Cocoa Beach.  Impressive work, gentlemen.  I need you to do it again.”

Ted stood up.  “That’s it then?  We dig in and fight?  Hold the line and all that bullshit?”

Captain Williams replied with a wan smile.  “Because you used to be a Marine, I’ll let that slide, Major.  But in effect, the answer to your question is yes.  With the reinforcements from Tampa, we should be able to stop the Russian advance here at Orlando.  At least long enough for the main line troops to arrive from Europe.”

Erik watched the range of emotions ripple across Ted’s face.  From incredulity, to anger, to confusion, to acceptance.  Finally, Ted nodded.  “Okay.  Come on, lieutenant.  Let’s go dig in.”

“What?” Erik said, getting to his feet.  “That’s it?  We’re just going to go stand out there and let the damn Russians roll over us?  We’re going to be killed—they got armored personnel carriers, drones with missiles, a bunch of guys on foot—”

“Lieutenant,” said the Captain in a warning tone.

Erik continued, anger driving him forward.  “They’ll kill us if we sit out there,” he said pointing toward the east.  “What the hell is the good in that?  What about my wife?”

Captain Williams slammed both hands down on his desk as he stood up.  “What
about
her?  Your families have been a drain on our supplies since I agreed to take you on!  Face it, Larsson—you joined the Army!  You are no longer free to express your concerns about your family to me or anyone else!  I have given you a direct order—now get the hell out of here and see to your duties before I have you slapped in irons for insubordination!”

Erik stared at the older man, his fists clenched in impotent rage.  He had never felt so trapped before in all his life.  To think his wife and Ted’s family were so close, just a mile or so away, and yet he and Ted were going to go in the opposite direction to stare death in the face…with no hope of survival…

Ted dragged Erik from the office.  Erik’s heated gaze never left Captain William’s face.  The man had changed, Erik realized, from the laconic soldier who had first shown up at the gates of the Freehold in the early days of the crisis.  He was older, more tired now.  The door shut and Erik was once again in the swirling storm of activity that was the outpost command center.

After navigating the bustling command center they stepped out into the bright Florida sunshine and stood there in front of their M-ATV for a moment.  Erik put his helmet back on, suddenly wanting to feel the reassuring weight of the protective covering on his head.  It took every ounce of his mettle to keep from just pushing past Pinner and taking the wheel of their vehicle so he could drive straight to Brin.  The urge to flee north had never been so strong.  He began to weigh his options.  Would a charge of desertion really matter up north where no one knew what the truth was?

“This isn’t right,” Erik said through gritted teeth.  “This is all wrong, man, and you know it.”

“Of course I know it,” said Ted with a laugh.  “We’re in the Army—things are supposed to be fucked up.”

“How’d it go, sirs?” asked Pinner, leaning against the side of the M-ATV.

Ted walked over and drummed his fingers on the hood.  “Well, about as I expected.  We’re up the creek and about to throw our only paddle overboard.”

“That good, huh?” asked Pinner as he examined his sidearm.  He slapped a fully loaded magazine into his pistol’s handle and checked the chamber before re-holstering it.

Erik paced like a caged animal in front of the M-ATV.  “We can’t just drive out there and get ourselves killed.  I don’t want to die for nothing—and you know that’s all we’ll accomplish.  Hell we almost died already.”

Ted snorted.  “Trust me, I don’t want to die either.”

“I want to make the other bastard die,” muttered Pinner.  “That’s the only way to survive a war.”

Erik paused, hands on his hips.  “Well?  We’re just going to drive out east of here and go hide in the bushes, waiting for the Russians to show up?  So we can, what?  Take pot-shots at them and hope they don’t use that drone of theirs to drop a missile on our heads?  What the fuck, man?  We need to get the hell out of here. 
Now
.”

Pinner crossed his arms and observed Erik through squinted eyes.  “Sir, I think they hang you for that.  It’s called desertion.  And we’re at war…”

“Erik, calm down,” said Ted.  He put a hand on Erik’s shoulder.  He motioned for him to not talk so loud.  “Look, I’m just as frustrated and mad about this as you are—but Pinner’s right, you can’t go spouting off about your opinions.  Like Captain Williams said, we’re in the Army now.  There’s no quitting.  Not at a time like this.”

“Jesus, why the hell did I ever agree to this?” said Erik as he slumped against the side of the still-warm M-ATV.  “Are we ever going to see our families again?”

Sergeant Pinner smiled, “Welcome to the long line of soldiers, Lieutenant.  Men have been saying those two statements for as long as there have been armies.  You’re now part of the brotherhood.”

Ted chuckled ruefully and glanced up into the blue sky and squinted in the sunlight.  His body went tense.  “You know?  On second thought, I don’t care
what
Captain Williams said—I think we better go find the girls.”

Erik looked up.  “What makes you say that?”  Hope began to blossom in his chest that he would at least get to hold Brin one more time. 

“Because this invasion is gonna get ugly real quick and we need to make sure they know what to do when the shit hits the fan.”

Erik snorted.  “If the shit hasn’t hit the fan by now, I don’t want to know when it does.  You don’t think we can stop them, do you?”  Erik could feel his heart beating faster and sweat starting to form on his forehead.  The instinct to run was almost completely overpowering.  All he could think about was getting to Brin and getting her to safety.  Somewhere north of Orlando.  Way north.

Ted looked at Erik.  “Stop the Russians?  No.  Not with the men and supplies we’ve got.  You saw what we’re up against—and that was just a scouting party.  If the Captain’s right and there’s a larger force coming up through the middle of the state…”

Shouting erupted around them as soldiers scurrying about their business began to stop and look up.  A low, nearly silent rumble drifted on the slight autumn breeze through the outpost.  Erik noticed the silence coming from inside the command hut for the first time and followed Ted’s gaze up into the sky.  Somewhere in the distance an old tornado siren started its mournful wail.  The sound sent a shiver down Erik’s spine.

As his eyes adjusted to the glare from the sun, Erik saw contrails in the sky.  White lines slicing the brilliant blue of the dome above—
lots
of them.  All coming from the south, all with a small black shape with long wings at the front.  The planes were recognizable as such, but they weren’t American.  The stark utilitarianism of their design screamed foreign aircraft.