by G. R. Carter
Kathy raised an eyebrow, pulling Tony’s attention from the map. Tony responded to the non-verbal question. “Kathy, there’s only family in this world. Friends are important, but they come and go. Family is all that matters. Before the Reset that was a golden rule, now it’s platinum.”
His cousin looked unconvinced. Tony had committed ARK forces to help the Republic, and Peacekeeper officers attended the Red Hawk training academy at Old Main College until just this year. Many Citizens whispered amongst themselves that the alliance between the two nations might be formalized someday. Especially when Diamante and Hamilton children reached the age necessary for a good old-fashioned political marriage.
Tony sensed the doubt in Kathy’s look. “I told you, I like Alex. But don’t forget for one second he’s just as ruthless a SOB as you think I am. If it came down to helping ARK at the expense of his beloved Republic, what do you think he’d do?”
“There’s no question what he would do,” Kathy replied.
“See? So that’s all I’m saying. Don’t read anymore into my words than that. Veteran Peacekeepers can instruct our people just as well as the Hamilton’s SDC… the Costellos all trained at Old Main after all. Besides, we’ve got different goals and tactics than the Red Hawks do now.”
The floor to ceiling office doors opened, revealing Uncle Jack Diamante chatting with a Peacekeeper guard, trying to stand at attention while holding the entryway open for him. The guard, a third cousin of Tony’s, laughed at something Uncle Jack said, shook his head and closed the door behind him.
“Don’t let me interrupt. You young people seem quite serious about something,” Uncle Jack said with mock seriousness.
“Just passing on some life philosophies you taught me, Uncle Jack.”
“Then I know it must be serious. I won’t trouble you for details. Let’s talk happy things. How goes the Kansas City project?” Jack asked.
“Better than we expected. SubTropolis is everything we hoped and more. Thanks to your suggestion to wager so many resources there right after the Reset, we were able to save a lot more of the people and infrastructure than I thought possible,” Tony said.
Jack waved off the praise. “Kansas City was very important to families in our line of work…before the troubles, I mean. The FBI could never root them out, try as they might. I knew there would be some survivors there, in particular ones without the influence of that Continuity cult. Solid families, doing solid business.”
“Our rail lines will run from there to the waypoints in Des Moines, Omaha, Wichita, even down to Oklahoma City once we get Antonio Lopez out of there,” Tony said, pointing a finger at the middle of what was once Oklahoma.”
“Don’t be in such a rush for that, Premier,” Uncle Jack said, using Tony’s official title half in jest. “Texarkana can be a thorn in Lopez’s side. Keep them well supplied out of Little Rock, let them do the fighting for a while. You want those Anglo-Texans begging for your help. Otherwise they’ll be a pain in your rear after you get rid of Lopez’s Nuevos. An independent bunch, those east Texans. Too much Teutonic blood even after all these generations.”
“Lopez has pretty much everything from the Baja country to the Texas Hill Country. His Nuevos are pushing up hard on Tulsa even now,” Kathy protested.
Uncle Jack waved again. “Let him have the entire southwest. Arid country, not much grows there without irrigation. Lopez is a conqueror, he doesn’t know how to farm. He won’t be able to feed his subjects, they’ll migrate to where the food is plentiful.”
“So we play the stall game until he’s weak from overextending, then offer his strongest supporters Citizenship to come over to us,” Tony said with a nod.
Uncle Jack just smiled, no response needed for agreement.
“With Kansas City the railhead of the entire Midwest again, the Free Grazers will become de facto waypoints for us. Ranch after ranch flying our flag, stretching as far west as the Rockies.”
“The hardest part will be keeping enough young people on those ranches. Make sure you keep Citizenship an elusive goal. Enough chance for there to be hope, not so many that they all end up in Townhouses. You need to start thinking estates out west, not cities,” Uncle Jack said.
“Like the Red Hawk Fortress Farms? Except with art and design and luxury, I hope. I swear, they think the more uncomfortable those places are the more beautiful they are,” Kathy replied. She had been on a recent tour of the Republic’s northwest territory, what had once been the Blackhawk Confederation’s eastern domain. They were reinforcing there for a future conflict with the Northern Caliphate, and comforts were on the back burner of design.
“We’ve got the model with the Romano estate outside of Columbia. Right along the rail line, fully self-sufficient, servants seem happy.”
“Okay, there you go. Draw up the plans, start pushing that out to your Citizen Directors assigned to the territories. You’ve got extra resources to use out there,” Uncle Jack said, then paused. “Remember, both of you, a nation is a belief. Nothing really exists without the buy-in of the human spirit. I told you before, this is where the United States lost her way; no one believed in anything anymore.” He stared at his two younger protégés with his infamous look that demanded acknowledgement. They both replied with nods.
“You can build fancy railways, bountiful farms, beautiful white Townhouses for your Citizens…but if the servant in the field doesn’t believe in ARK, all you have created will come crashing down. Put the lambda on everything—you do a good job of that—remind them where the food comes from. But don’t ever forget to make them believe in what they’re doing, that way they’ll work a little harder, do without a little longer, be willing to die on battlefields you decide are worthwhile, yes?”
Tony and Kathy both nodded again. The Diamante family considered Uncle Jack to be their most priceless resource. The man had been through nearly every type of power struggle in his life. When everyone else was freaking out about the end of the modern world, he was the first one to confirm Tony’s instinct to seize power. Their shared fanatical dedication to improving the family’s wealth and power made ARK a force to be reckoned with before the Reset, and a burgeoning empire since.
“Uncle Jack, I want to get your opinion on something Kathy and I were talking about before you came in,” Tony said.
“You mean those ‘life philosophies?’”
“Right. She’s concerned I made a mistake letting the Republic have Grand Shawnee. She’s right in that there’s a lot of resources there, but it just seems like wilderness to me.”
“And you wanted to let the Hamiltons pacify it? I remember our conversation back then.”
Tony nodded and Uncle Jack continued. “You both are smart, and you’re both right at the same time. See, there’s not always a right and wrong answer…sometimes both right, sometimes both wrong, yes? Both right in this case.”
Uncle Jack waved them over to the large conference table close to the map wall. “Nicole made me promise to make you eat. Come over, get a bite, let’s talk a little about something that’s been troubling me. I really didn’t have the right opportunity to bring it up, maybe now is that time.”
Reluctantly, Tony agreed and sat down to food long since gone cold from neglect. He pulled off a silver cover, revealing steak, corn and a baked potato, with slices of dark bread and rich butter. His mouth began to water, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. All day was one meeting after another, then reports, then planning. One item that had not gone neglected was a bottle of pre-Reset wine, expertly preserved in the basement of Renaissance Tower until today. He opened another bottle and poured each of the three a glass. As they began to pick at the food, Uncle Jack continued.
“You bring up Grand Shawnee, which leads us to an interesting dilemma. The Red Hawks have been good partners—the Hamiltons are good boys, I like them and I think they’re smart. But they’re not businessmen. They’re idealists. They want to fulfill their father’s dreams, rebuild something akin
to the United States. With a constitution, civilian government…all the things they believe from their history books. They’ve got some good advisors, this Steinbrink family is a practical bunch, but together they’re convinced they can create this grand republic we’ll all be anxious to join,” Uncle Jack said with exaggerated gestures.
“I still remember the conversation on the skyship that day over Springfield. ‘The people, Tony.’ Remember Alex saying that? I thought he might be on to something, but the way we’re doing things is clearly better.”
“I agree with you. Kathy?”
“Of course, Uncle Jack,” Kathy replied mid-chew.
“Okay. Then here’s the problem. When we’re ready to go east, or help Vincennes go east, we need direct lines of supply. Either straight across Grand Shawnee, or using the rivers. Down the Mississippi and up the Ohio. Longer miles using the river, but depending on what we’re hauling probably faster,” Uncle Jack said.
“Right, that’s why we’re building the armored tugboats. ‘Brown water navy,’ Nicole called it.”
Uncle Jack nodded. “Civil War reference. Something learned from the Union. Here’s the problem wrapped in a problem. These people in what used to be Cape Girardeau, Mt. Horab they call it now,” he said with an eye roll, “they’re sitting in a tough spot for us. Without their blessing, we won’t be able to get our ships south of here.”
“They better not try to stop us.”
“Or what, Tony? The Hamiltons support Mt. Horab. Felt bad for those Buckle people getting run out of everywhere else, so they helped them get established. They claim to be independent, but the Republic will help them if needs be.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Remember what I told you. They’re idealists, not businessmen.”
“What’s the ideal behind Mt. Horab?” Kathy interjected.
“Their religion is the key. The Republic has their Unified Church. There’s one of their chapels just outside of the City, an act of courtesy to them when we ran the Buckles out. Different name but very similar belief structure to what the Buckles believe. Sam in particular will encourage Alex to defend them, he’s very strong in this faith.” Uncle Jack raised his hand to stop them both from objecting. “I know it isn’t good business. Not good for long-term growth of an empire. They think they’re answering to a higher power.”
Tony kept picking at the food, a gloomy mood settling down on his face. “We need the rivers. After we get the Kansas City project complete, we’ve got to link up with Vincennes and start pushing east. That’s just as big a prize, maybe bigger, than what we’re doing now.”
Uncle Jack nodded. “I won’t live to see it, but the Diamante family will control the heart of North America within a couple generations. That is something that brings an old man great joy.”
“That soon? I’m guessing you’ve got a plan for how to deal with this Mt. Horab problem?”
“An idea, perhaps. But you’re going to have to do some things that might make you uncomfortable. Even sorry…regretful, I mean. Situations that need handling now, before they get out of control.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re going to need to force the issue. Start to move south now, force Mt. Horab to come under the yoke before they feel too confident standing up to the mighty ARK,” Uncle Jack said, pointing and shaking his finger at Tony.
“You just said they’ve got the support of the Hamiltons!”
“That’s where the discomfort will come in, dearest nephew. You’ve got to force Alex to do something he doesn’t want to do. You’ve got to force him to choose between the two of you.”
Chapter Three
Junction of Kaskaskia and Mississippi River
ARK River Task Force 5
“Make our speed two-thirds.”
“Two-thirds, aye, Captain.”
Chocolate-colored water swirled in tiny eddies alongside the ship's hull, a hypnotizing dance of resistance to the mighty current below. Billions of gallons of brute force struggled to keep the Firefly pushed back, overcome only by mighty diesel engines willing the propellers to chop faster than Old Man River could shove. Black exhaust pushed a slowly dispersing cloud of soot into the sky from the twin stacks extended ten feet up aft of the wheelhouse, while below a frothy churn of cascading wake was blown toward shore.
Captain Liam Oliver raised his binoculars, trying to pick out anything unnatural profiled against the trees crowding the water's edge. Years without human interference allowed the thick undergrowth to return, ironically making it easier for the trained eye to see any evidence of recent activity. ARKShip Firefly began its tack back to the opposite bank, completing the zigzag pattern utilized since turning off the main river channel and onto the tributary still known on charts as the Kaskaskia River. The alternating angles gave helmets poking up above armored rings fore and aft their own view. The men underneath rotated their auto-cannons, scanning the riverbanks for any sign of movement.
Oliver wasn't worried about sneaking up on anyone; if the black bio-diesel smoke didn't give their presence away, the roar of revving engines would. They wanted everyone watching to know they were here, that ARK was coming to stay. The lambda emblem was present everywhere on the ship and on the crew uniforms. A black flag with the white outlined silver letter flew high above the pilothouse. It was painted on the hull, even on the front of each gun turret. Subtlety was not the point, fear and reputation were. ARK wanted word to spread: these rivers were theirs now, and anyone else would be gone or dead.
“Hostile spotted, east bank, four hundred yards!” shouted his Ship’s Mate, pointing out the location.
“All ahead full! Murdock, do you have a visual?” Oliver shouted over the engines to his foredeck gunner. “About two o’clock, do you see her?” He watched the man spin the long slender barrel towards the position, then wave one hand back with an upraised thumb.
“Weapons free. Engage with tally!”
The Firefly groaned, engines chugging as hard as thousand horsepower twin diesels increased to max RPM. The old beasts were ancient and rebuilt to modern standards—meaning no electronics, but eager to please and safe to wind tight. Oliver meant to close quickly with the pirate vessel, seldom more than a salvaged pre-Reset pleasure craft. The rickety vessels never carried armor or heavy weapons, making them go faster in a straight line, and would likely disintegrate with a few well-placed bursts from his ship's rapid-fire cannon. The bandits were plenty ruthless and mean in a fight, but they possessed no advanced tactics or equipment to worry about. Just corner them and pound them, as ARK vessels had done hundreds of times before. If he was lucky, a survivor would be floating in the wreckage and eager to talk in exchange for a chance to live.
“Second target spotted! East bank, call it 600 yards! She’s cutting across channel, Captain, running for cover!” The ensign looked at his commanding officer, waiting to see which target the old man wanted them to pursue.
Captain Oliver said nothing, still chewing on his unlit pipe. He pulled it from his teeth, looked down at the chamber rising from the end of the stem, turned it over and struck it on the heel of his boot to loosen the remains of his previous smoke. Satisfied it was empty, he pulled a leather pouch out his pocket, scooping fresh leaf to fill the pipe to the brim. He tamped the loose tobacco down firm, then put it back between his teeth. With the expertise of all his forty-two years, he struck a nearly priceless pre-Reset Zippo and put the flame to the pipe, inhaling in bursts while the flame finally caught in a glow of embers. The smoke calmed his nerves, even while he could feel the young ensign’s anxious energy. “Stay true on the first target, Ensign Alston. That one running away is meant to distract us, which means we’re on the trail of what we came to find. That’ll be found up over yonder where we flushed ‘em.”
“Aye, Captain. Course is true.”
The cabin of the converted river tugboat shuddered as the fore cannon began to fire, reaching out to connect with Murdock’s target. The Firefly wa
s well within range and the distance was closing quickly. Exploding shells tended to keep your enemy’s heads down so they couldn’t fire back, another bonus of opening up at this range. Oliver raised his binoculars to see the effect, watching the rounds explode against dark gray mottled plywood and metal. Bright orange bursts popped, but no satisfying final blast like he remembered from the action movies of his childhood. Real battles never seemed to work out like Hollywood used to show. Still, it was satisfying to see his men’s hard work and training pay off with bad guys being shredded.
The approval of Murdock’s marksmanship slipped away; there were more boats next to the target. Five, six, maybe even seven, well camouflaged but still visible. A large low-slung barge rested up against a dock, clearly well painted and maintained. Pirate equipment was seldom so well kept, but there were no records of any civilized groups living around here. Certainly, none who could afford the expense of maintaining a small squadron of boats and their tender.
Rapid sharp sounds echoed off Firefly's armor plating, causing Oliver and Bisso to flinch reflexively. Heavy caliber shells were striking, beginning to punch into a tough skin designed to turn away small arms fire, leaving little rays of sunlight peering through the indentations.
“Shipmate!” he shouted without taking his eyes off the bank ahead. Bisso sprung up beside Oliver, standing at attention as best as he could as the boat’s hull cut against the river waves. “Get on the wireless and tell Captain Lovell to bring up Wasp. Looks like we might be up against pros and I think maybe we could use their help.” As the order was carried out Oliver returned his attention to Alston. “Ensign, turn us about, let’s get back downstream and regroup with Wasp.”
Hammer blows fell heavily on the starboard armor plating making Oliver’s ears ring.
