by Frank Zafiro
“Probably not.”
“What are you going to do?”
“We’re still sleeping on it,” Ryan said. His voice sounded strange to Alex, but he chalked it up to stress. “But we’ve considered coming out to see you for a visit. Would that be all right?”
“Sure. I’ve got the extra space. You can stay as long as you like. I’ll even take you to a Sharks game. Buy you a jersey.”
“I have one. It’s blue. But thanks, Alex. It’s good to know that’s an option.”
Alex thought it was the only real option his brother had, but resisted the urge to tell him so. Ryan was stubborn, and he knew the man had to reach his own conclusions.
“Just let me know,” he said.
“I will.”
They chatted amiably about Melina, more hockey, and the Freedom Concerts for a few minutes until Ryan said he had to go.
“My boss just walked in. He went straight to his office, but now he’s looking my way. My guess is he’s about to call me in for some stupid reason.”
“This is that Potulny guy?”
“He’s a lieutenant, but yeah.”
“Watch that one, Ryan. I’ve heard his name pop up a couple of times in Party circles.”
“You don’t have to warn me about him,” Ryan assured him. “I’ve been watching out for him for most of ten years. But I didn’t know you traveled in Party circles.”
“Party circles are pretty much everywhere, even here.”
“Making America fascist again,” Ryan muttered.
“Don’t let Potulny hear you say that.”
“I’m sure he already has. This is probably a recorded line.”
Stupid, Alex thought. He sometimes wondered if Ryan realized how pervasive the Party really was. Between them and the passive and apathetic majority, Alex believed that they had greater control than most Americans knew or would like to admit.
They said their goodbyes and Alex hung up, just as his car pulled in front of the Governor’s mansion. He thanked his driver, and let him know he was going to be a while. Then he made his way to the front door.
The doorman led him to the Governor’s private office. She sat at her desk, engaged in conversation with a tall black man in a simple but impeccable suit. His hair was trimmed short and his facial features chiseled. He had an air of easy confidence about him. Ryan recognized him, but it took a moment for him to place the man. Then he realized it was the clothing. He wasn’t used to seeing him in civilian attire.
“Alex!” the Governor greeted him. “You know General Clay Braddock, I think?”
“Of course,” Alex said, shaking hands. “I’m just used to seeing him in uniform, that’s all.”
“I get that a lot,” Braddock said in an easy tone. “But given the nature of our discussion, I thought it appropriate.”
Alex glanced at the Governor. “Should I excuse myself from this meeting?”
“Don’t be silly.” She motioned for him to sit, so he did. “Clay and I were in the middle of a productive conversation, I think.”
“About?”
The Governor smiled warmly. “Well, perhaps I’ll let Clay answer that.” She looked to him.
Braddock met Alex’s gaze evenly. “Actually, I don’t know how productive it has been. Mostly, we’ve been talking about the hypothetical.”
“Have we?” the Governor said. “Well, I suppose that is true. But you can learn a lot of things during a hypothetical discussion.”
“I agree,” Braddock said.
“What kind of hypothetical discussion are we talking about?” Alex asked.
“One in which California is forced to secede from the United States of America,” Braddock said, his tone unchanged.
Alex wondered silently how long ago, for him at least, that idea moved from the hypothetical to the possible and now to the probable. Aloud, he said, “That’s on a lot of lips these days.”
“Surprisingly so. Not just politicians, but musicians, talk shows. It’s gaining momentum. But our discussion centered around the problems surrounding the subsequent government of the new state. Logistics, infrastructure, and the like.”
“You mean, like a standing army?”
“An armed force is a necessary component, yes.”
“Hypothetically?”
Braddock smiled tightly. “The scenario is hypothetical. The need for a military is not. Every nation needs to be able to defend its borders.”
“It does.”
“When you came in,” the Governor said, “we were talking about what positions were the most key to a new state’s success where the military is concerned. I contend that the Secretary of Defense is key, but Clay has a different opinion.”
Alex turned to look at Braddock.
“My position is that the commanding officer is crucial. A Secretary of Defense makes policy decisions. A general implements the ones that involve military use. Successful execution is absolutely critical, particularly given that this hypothetical new state would be facing a number of challenges.”
“Hopefully war isn’t one of them,” Alex said.
“Agreed. But a strong defense can help deter others. Better to be prepared for battle and not have to engage, than the reverse.”
That made sense to Alex, and he said so.
“This requires coordination and training,” Braddock said. “And that would be the responsibility of the commanding officer. It is a crucial role, and would require complete commitment.”
“Do you think that will be hard to find?”
Braddock nodded. “In this scenario, you are talking about a lot of competing loyalties. Take the National Guard, for example. Officially, we are part of the United States Army Reserve Group. But most of the time, we fall under the command of the Governor and operate in-state. But we’ve also been deployed out of country during times of war. I served in both Iraq and Afghanistan as a captain, for example.
“In the event of secession, the President would almost certainly call up the Guard to counter what would essentially be rebellion. That means soldiers who have to decide between their country and their state. If they didn’t report for duty, they’d be deemed either AWOL or charged with treason. It’s no small consideration. And you face a similar issue with your police services, too. These are the two entities who exist to help maintain order, especially in times of emergency.”
Braddock’s voice remained calm but the gravitas in his tone was palpable.
“Every member, from senior command down to the newest soldier or cop, would be faced with a very difficult decision to make in a very short period of time. And their collective decisions would go a long way towards deciding the success or failure of the state’s action. Hypothetically,” he added, without a change of inflection.
“This is something I’ve dwelled upon long and hard,” the Governor said. “And it seems to me that this is the kind of decision that would be good to have already made before this short window of time appears. Don’t you think so, Alex?”
She was tossing him a softball, and he swung into it. “Of course. It’s important to know where things stand before making a final decision.”
“I agree,” she replied. “But how is it possible to know how all of these individuals will react when the time comes?”
“You can’t,” Braddock said. “But if enough of the leaders are united in their response, the majority will follow their lead.”
Alex nodded. “I suppose that’s true. But what about those that don’t?”
“I would suspect that a state with a culture like that of California would have a no harm, no foul sort of approach to those individuals, don’t you?”
“I can’t imagine a different way to handle something like that,” Alex admitted. “I mean, they’d be kept away from their rifles and so forth, right?”
“Now you’re getting down into the weeds,” Braddock said. “But yes, I would think that if the senior leaders of the National Guard called for soldiers to report to duty in supp
ort of the state of California, many or even most would respond. Those who didn’t agree simply wouldn’t come. They might make their way out of state to report to the United States elsewhere if they felt strongly enough about it, or they might just hunker down and do nothing.”
“Hypothetically.”
“All of this is hypothetical. Otherwise, it amounts to treason, doesn’t it? Plotting a coup, essentially?”
“Something along those lines, for certain,” the Governor agreed. She sighed, and Alex knew her well enough to know that she didn’t enjoy the pretense of this conversation, even if she conceded it was a necessary fiction. “It is a question every person will have to answer for themselves.”
“So they will,” Braddock agreed. “Though it would hardly be the first time men and women have faced questions like this.”
“No,” the Governor said. “People had to make hard decisions during the race riots, or during the Civil Rights Movement.”
“Similar, but not the same,” Braddock replied. “This would be an even bigger question. One that might involve war.”
“Well, my generation had the war in Vietnam to contend with. That divided a number of American households.”
“It did. But it didn’t change any borders, like secession would.”
“You’re talking about the Civil War, of course,” the Governor.
“I am.”
“I’ve thought about that time in our history a lot, too,” she said. “It’s the closest parallel, really.”
“Do you know who Robert E. Lee was?” Braddock asked.
The Governor gave him an indulgent look. “Clay...do you know who Elizabeth Cady Stanton was?”
He nodded. “She spearheaded women’s suffrage.”
“That’s right. Now, if you are aware enough to know who Ms. Stanton is, can we just assume that I might know who Lee was?”
“No offense intended, ma’am. It’s been my unfortunate discovery that most people are not well versed on history.”
“Meaning they don’t know much, and what they do know is usually wrong. Washington and the cherry tree, et cetera.”
“Exactly so. Or that Lee was the general of all Confederate forces during the Civil War. He was, in fact, only the commander of the Army of North Virginia. No more and no less.”
“That I did not know,” the Governor admitted.
“It’s a difference without very much distinction, when you get right down to it,” Braddock said. “Lee’s forces were very much the core of the Confederate military cause. But that isn’t why I asked the question, ma’am. I asked because we were talking about that difficult decision many soldiers would face in the event of secession.”
“Lee faced that choice,” she said, nodding slowly as she spoke.
“He did. What many people don’t know is that privately, even though he felt that the Southern states had many righteous grievances, he was very opposed to the idea of southern secession. He called it anarchy.”
The Governor raised her eyebrows slightly, but said nothing.
“When the time came, the Confederacy offered him a command but he ignored it. Then Virginia seceded as well, joining the Confederacy. President Lincoln offered him a top role in the Union Army, defending the capital, but he did not accept. Instead, he resigned his commission and returned home to Virginia. In the end, it came down to one thing for him.”
Braddock paused, his gaze going from the Governor to Alex and back again. Then he finished. “Lee asked, quite simply, ‘how can I draw my sword upon Virginia, my native state?’ And his answer was that he could not.”
The three of them were quiet for a long moment. Then Braddock rose and offered his hand to the Governor. “Thank you for inviting me here, Madame Governor. It’s been an interesting discussion.”
The Governor shook his hand, covering it with her other hand at the same time. “Interesting, if hypothetical.”
“Yes. Well, I will share one thing with you that is not hypothetical.” He stopped moving his hand, but still held hers. “I love California, and she is my native state.”
The Governor smiled broadly at him. “Thank you, sir.”
Braddock didn’t reply. He gave her hand another gentle pump, nodded to Alex, and left the office.
The Governor settled back into her seat, then looked at Alex. “And how was your day?” she asked.
Chapter 19
Political advisor and lobbyist Richard Perle famously said earlier this century that, “Dictators must have enemies. They must have internal enemies to justify their secret police and external enemies to justify their military forces.” While his somewhat universal observation was made well before the Crisis of 2029, it proved to be prescient. Ironically, the White House was seemingly able to focus on both kinds of perceived enemies – internal and external – at the same time with its immigration policies of 2029.
— From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose
RYAN HUNG UP THE PHONE. Normally, it did his heart good to speak with his brother, but that sensation was diminished as he could feel Potulny’s eyes on him. He only had to wait a few minutes before the phone rang again and the lieutenant summoned him into his office.
He stood rigidly in front of Potulny’s desk, one of several the lieutenant kept throughout the district. There was little in the way of decoration, other than a free-standing flag on one wall and an official photograph of the President behind the desk. The photograph’s location gave Ryan the eerie sense of the President watching the conversation from over Potulny’s shoulder.
“At ease, Officer,” Potulny said, his tone formal but slightly softer than usual.
Ryan relaxed slightly.
“In fact,” Potulny said, motioning to the chair next to Ryan, “sit down. I imagine standing too long makes your hip hurt.”
‘Too long’ usually meant three minutes for Ryan, but he didn’t intend to admit that in front of Potulny. Still, he took the seat, surprised at how grateful he felt at the gesture. It took him a moment to settle into the chair, and when he had done so and looked up at Potulny, he had to suppress a desire to laugh out loud. The chair sat lower to the ground than most, giving Potulny a sense of dominance and forcing the person sitting to look up at him. Behind him, the President peered down as well. All Potulny needed was Attila the Hun on Leadership sitting on the shelf behind him, and the effect would be complete.
“I’ve given you some time and space, Ryan. A chance to clear your head about things.”
Ryan didn’t reply. He waited for what was next.
“Are you ready to do what is best for your family?” Potulny asked.
“What would that be, sir?”
Potulny gave him an irritated look. “Are you being sarcastic?”
“I’m being serious.”
“Then you’re being obtuse as well.” Potulny leaned back in his chair, bringing more of the President into view. “I’ve been watching you for a while, Ryan. I reviewed your file again, too. You’ve been good at police work, and from what my friends at the Department of Defense tell me, you were a good Marine, too.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s why I don’t understand why you seem bound and determined to ruin your career and devastate your family.”
“I’m not.”
“Then how do explain the fact that you’re not even an associate member of the Party? That you refuse to salute at roll call? I mean, is that really who you are? A shamer?”
“I intend no disrespect.”
“The lack of appropriate respect is disrespect,” Potulny said firmly. He contemplated Ryan for a few moments longer. “The New American Party stands up for America. I know you have to see that. It stands up for true Americans, and we want to stand up for you, too, Ryan. You and your family.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Loyalty,” Potulny answered immediately. “Loyalty to the Party, to the President, but most of all, to your country. That shouldn’t be a difficult thing. I shouldn’t have
to sell you on it. But here we are.”
“Here we are,” Ryan echoed.
He’d known this moment would come, and he’d thought long and hard about it. Potulny’s implications were clear and made the choice seem simple. Join, and Nathalie stays in the country with him and Melina. Refuse, and she would be deported when the Amnesty period ended. He would lose a wife, and Melina a mother.
How many people faced similar difficult decisions like this? How many Party members were there initially under duress, or was the New American Party as unified as it seemed?
He didn’t know. He didn’t know any of those people’s minds, only his own. And even though he knew that Potulny thought he had boxed Ryan into two choices, he believed there was always a third choice.
“I can’t join,” he said. “If I did, I’d be lying.”
The abrupt change in Potulny’s features surprised Ryan. His inviting expression descended into a dark scowl. “That is the wrong decision,” he said, biting off each word.
“Probably. I know that’s how you see it, certainly.”
“You realize the amnesty period is coming to a close in a matter of weeks, don’t you?”
“I am.”
“Your wife will be deported.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. And neither you nor your daughter will be allowed to go with her. Your family will be torn apart.”
“I know what the risks are.”
“They’re not risks, Officer. They are eventualities. Trust me.”
Potulny was the last person Ryan would trust. If Judas Iscariot, Benedict Arnold, and P.T. Barnum were all sitting behind that desk, he’d trust any one of them more than Potulny.
The lieutenant continued. “And if you are clinging to the hope that you and your daughter might apply for visas and be allowed to visit your wife in whatever country she lands in, I would like to disabuse you of that notion right now. You won’t be.” He smiled thinly. “I have friends at the Department of State as well.”
