“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. We’re all using the same radio frequencies and the same COMSEC encryption codes. I’ve really enjoyed your XO’s pleading with your headquarters. You don’t have any mortars, no anti-armor ability, no reinforcements coming and sure as hell no air support.” His smirk disappeared as iron crept into his voice.
“All you’ve got is blood on your hands, a president who abandoned you and 300 outgunned, outnumbered and surrounded men. Internment is the best deal you’re going to get. You have one hour to talk to your officers and see what your superiors think. If they’ll even bother communicating. They seem quite willing to wash their hands of you all. Remember, that hour ceasefire is a gift. Professional courtesy. Dismissed, Colonel.”
Anderson didn’t even offer a half-assed salute in reply.
Tallahassee, Florida
Florida’s Attorney General Francis Pickens hung up the phone in confused disgust. Half an hour wasted arguing with various staffers at the White House and all he could get was a promise that “someone will call you back.” They still didn’t believe the governor was really in the hospital and incommunicado. They were like a dog with a bone, trying to get back in touch with him. It was even harder for them to believe that the dithering moron of a lieutenant governor wasn’t interested in stepping up.
Pickens sure didn’t have a problem believing either. About the only thing surprising with the governor’s stroke was that it hadn’t dropped him years ago. The heart of anyone who drinks and smokes that much was essentially a ticking time bomb. His number two was just the high school dropout, hillbilly brother of some major campaign contributor. His hardest assignment to date centered on representing the governor at monster truck rallies. They only stuck him on that China trade trip to give time for the sexual harassment allegations to blow over.
Florida sure needed some strong leadership in this vacuum and that’s what he was trying to give. Pickens had made the tough decision to expand the Guard call up to protect every federal building and he personally ordered those senior federal workers to be placed in protective custody. In some cases, they were saved straight from the hands of lynch mobs. Somehow though, this all came off as provocative to DC. “Escalations,” that idiot White House staffer called them.
Pickens had even held a press conference explaining it all. Tried to, at any rate. Never before had he seen such a polarized press corps. They kept shouting him down trying to outdo each other with ever more outlandish accusatory questions.
He couldn’t even secure the attention of that egotistical dipshit in charge of the FNG force at Camp Blanding. While the attorney general was nominally the commanding officer of the state guard, during times of crisis the senior professional military officer on the scene took over. At least he would return Pickens’ calls, even if he then ignored all the orders merely to contain the paratroopers and try to avoid any further bloodshed.
Pickens wanted to sack the man so badly and had the authority to (probably), but wouldn’t that create its own set of problems? Would firing the most senior officer willing to stand up to the Feds destroy the Guard’s cohesion? Thereby removing the only real bargaining chip he had, or would those strange military people ignore him and carry on with their business, in effect staging a coup? Would Washington interpret the action as a peace overture or weakness? There were too many damn unknowns and things kept happening way too fast. If only he could have a little time to think!
Pickens weighed whether to fly out to Blanding and personally oversee the operation or not, when the former governor’s chief of staff interrupted and let himself into the office. It was the first time Pickens had seen a smile on that jowly face all day. Now the staffer laid it on pretty thick.
“Hey, Picky, I’ve got some good news for a change.” The attorney general bristled at the nickname. For years there wasn’t anything he could do about it since the fat man was an old college roommate and hunting buddy of the governor. Well, he also couldn’t do anything about him now. It was a shame that this prick’s expertise and inside knowledge were needed during this crisis.
As soon as things settled down, oh would this Bubba be out on his ass fast. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, type of out. The chief of staff assumed Pickens’ smile was because he enjoyed the nickname. He took a seat, unoffered.
“I just got off the phone with Senator Dimone’s campaign manager. They want to set up shop down here. In Orlando, to be exact. Well, fleeing for his life from the mad dictator or some such craziness is how they’re spinning it. I’ve already chartered a plane to pick him up and promised on your behalf to grant, get this, ‘asylum!’ ” He couldn’t get enough of his own wit.
“The senator’s staff will be calling any second to hammer out more details. I wanted to be the first to congratulate you.”
“On what? This just complicates everything even worse. I’m doing all I can to keep things from falling apart here, and now this asshole wants to use the anarchy in the streets to score a few publicity points against the president. He’s one more headache I don’t need.”
The staffer looked shocked. “I guess…you haven’t had time to think this through. Step back a second. You just got bumped up to the big leagues. That was the governor’s whole plan and you’ve succeeded where he failed. We’re no longer a chess piece in this game between the Washington elites. We’ve picked a side! We’re no longer a prize they both have to compete for; we can tip the scales in the senator’s favor. In anyone’s favor, for that matter. We’re both the audience and judge!”
He threw up his hands as Pickens just frowned.
“Think about it. Previously, you had the senator up against a corrupt Congress and tyrannical president but backed by the Supreme Court. The quintessential ‘People’s Champ,’ but before you came along, he was just an idea without a host.”
“Like a parasite,” chimed Pickens dryly.
“That’s what I like about you, Picky. Even throughout all this you can keep a sense of humor. Well, call him whatever you want, but they’ll call you the People’s Champion. If we can convince a few of the Justices to ‘flee’ as well, the opposition’s public support will collapse lick split. Take a look at the polls, man! The Supreme Court’s opinion ratings are higher than the president’s and Congress’s numbers combined! Which horse are you going to back?”
The attorney general hated to admit it, even to himself, but that was a damn good point. What a huge chance he had here. They both forgot the fact that this wonderful opportunity was made possible only through the unwilling sacrifice of so many lives. Well, they didn’t completely forget. It was just that their egos were so large as to assume they could fully manage the situation and prevent any further bloodshed, while somehow still orchestrating victory.
Like so many “great men” throughout history, they were terribly wrong.
Camp Blanding, Florida
Lt. Colonel Anderson had never held a council of war in his entire career. Nonetheless, he felt it was the noble thing to do. Straight out of Xenophon’s playbook. Despite a 200-year plus legacy of defending democracy, voting was a rather un-Army tradition. He naturally assumed the council would be a mere formality that could add a touch of romantic flair to the history books.
It was soon obvious why democracy is nicer in theory than practice. When he put the simple yes or no question to the assembled captains, first sergeants and lieutenants of what was left of 2–6 Infantry, he received votes for four different courses of action. Despite the situation, he marveled at how the “party affiliations” lined up by ranks.