by Brandt Legg
“Tell me what martial law would look like, General Imperia. How will the American people react? Our citizens own more than three hundred million guns. Do you really think they’re not going to shoot back? You don’t think we’re going to incite the paramilitary revolution that NorthBridge wants if we declare martial law?”
“With all due respect, Mr. President, the screens behind you sure seem to indicate that we’ve already got that bloodied revolution they want.”
“Then we’re running out of time, General. Tell me your plan.”
Fitz made eye contact with the president, but said nothing. General Imperia stood and pulled up a screen by pushing a button on his laptop. “The first thing we need to do is deploy the military to all the major cities. And be assured that three hundred million handguns and hunting rifles with the occasional assault weapon are nothing more than slingshots against the arsenal of the United States’ Military.”
“That won’t stop them from trying,” the president said. “There’ll be a lot of bloodshed.”
“The population will not resist,” the general countered. “They will welcome the return of law and order as this violence spreads.” He motioned to the monitors.
“How long are you proposing we keep martial law imposed?” the president asked.
“That will depend on the situation. If in the first few hours, if we do see any resistance, then we can implement the Beta-Pi plan.”
“The Beta-Pi plan?” the president asked.
“Beta-Pi is a plan we developed in the last fifteen years,” the general said. “It, uh—”
“It’s the Department of Defense’s blueprint for implementing martial law in the United States under situations where the public might resist the idea,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs interrupted.
“Wait a minute,” the president said. “We actually have a plan to declare martial law when it wouldn’t be obviously necessary?”
“Mr. President, the Pentagon has a plan for every eventuality, or possible occurrence, that involves our mission—which is to protect the citizens and interests of the nation. We can’t afford to wait until something is happening. Inaction during a crisis is dangerous,” General Imperia said, pausing to steady a trembling hand as he looked back at the horrors on the screens. “The military plans for everything years in advance.”
“Of course,” the president said, feeling silly for even asking. At first, he was outraged that they would be planning for martial law, but then, as he thought about it, he would’ve been outraged if they had not been. The REMies had made him too paranoid. “Please continue, General.”
“Operation Beta-Pi has many variables, but its basic premise is informing the population of the pandemic.”
“But there is no pandemic,” the president said at the risk of sounding foolish again.
“Of course not,” the general said, a slight trace of impatience in his voice. “But our studies have shown, and logic dictates, that the population will comply most with martial law if they believe we are protecting them from a pandemic.”
“But will they believe a pandemic on the heels of these riots?” some official asked.
“It doesn’t seem out of the question,” the general continued, “that NorthBridge would take this opportunity to unleash a biological weapon to cause more chaos. And that’s exactly what we’ll say. It will be the easiest way to enforce curfews, take resisters into custody, quarantine people, and it will allow us to regain control of the cities and put down these rioters or any rebellion.”
“Then you want me to order the suspension of the Constitution so we can announce a fictitious plague to aid our efforts at regaining control of the cities?” the president asked. “Why don’t we just use our strategic superiority to regain control? I can declare a state of emergency, which is far less extreme.”
“It won’t be enough,” the general said.
“Well, if it’s not enough, then I can declare martial law,” the president said. “Why don’t we begin with a state of emergency?”
The general’s expression revealed his annoyance. “Mr. President, we have riots of unprecedented scale occurring in seventeen major cities, and we have mobs assembling in at least thirty-nine smaller ones. Every fringe group and militia out there is now on the move.”
“The president is aware of the situation, General,” Fitz said dismissively. “Thank you.”
General Imperia looked from Colonel Dranick to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and then reluctantly sat back down, unable to wipe the scowl from his face.
“General Imperia is correct,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs began. “Our country has never, including during the Civil War, faced this much unrest simultaneously, encompassing such a broad geographic area. We’re talking about every region, and it’s worsening by the minute.” He stopped and made eye contact with the president. “Neither you, nor I, know what NorthBridge is planning to do next. They may actually unleash bioweapons that cause a plague, and if we’ve got hundreds of thousands of people dying, then martial law may not be enough. There are viruses that can do that. Let me show you the charts, we’ve run all the simulations.”
“Well, let me give you some history Chairman,” the president said. “We’ve never had full-scale martial law in America, including during the Civil War. Lincoln suspended some rights, and the courts later found he overreached. We don’t run the government on hypotheticals. If we did, we’d be going to war every other week for some reason or another because we thought some country might do us harm, or that another might do things we don’t like. Yes, this situation is really bad, but it could get a lot worse if we play into our enemies’ hands. They want martial law.”
“Mr. President, look at the screens,” the Chairman began. “Let’s get an update. Let’s see how many more cities have fallen into the hands of rebels and gang violence. This is a coordinated attack on the country by a terrorist group. NorthBridge is the largest domestic terrorist organization we have ever known, and they have initiated more attacks on US soil that any other entity or country ever. In fact, all the attacks on American soil combined don’t reach the level of NorthBridge. We are at war, and you are tying the hands of the military unless you give us the tool of martial law immediately.”
“Is there consensus among the military?” Colonel Dranick asked.
“Yes,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said. “We have a consensus.”
“And national security advisors?” the president asked, looking at Dranick.
“Yes, Mr. President. We have a consensus as well. All national security advisers are unanimously recommending declaring martial law immediately.”
Hudson’s gaze lingered with Dranick’s for a long moment. “How is the National Guard doing?”
“Look for yourself, Mr. President,” General Imperia said. “Not well.”
“Surely there’s another option,” the president said. “We can send in the military without declaring martial law.”
General Imperia let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you afraid to use force, Mr. President?”
“What did you just say?” the president asked, getting up and walking toward the general.
General Imperia glared at the president for a moment, then said, “I beg your pardon, Mr. President, my emotions got the better of me. I spoke out of turn.”
“General, I understand these are emotional times. I was elected to protect those people,” the president said, pointing at the screens filled with mayhem and flames. “I was also elected to defend the Constitution of the United States, and you can be sure that if I, or when I, give the order to suspend that Constitution, it will be because I see no clear alternative. This is not such a case, so I suggest you get your troops ready to go into those cities and restore order, because I’m declaring a state of national emergency. And if you don’t like my decision, then General, I suggest you run for the presidency.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Back in the Oval Office, whe
re Schueller was waiting, Fitz and Melissa congratulated the president.
“Too soon for that,” Hudson said. “We may lose this yet. I might have no choice but to declare martial law tonight.”
“Let’s hope not,” Fitz said, opening a Coke.
“Melissa, you’ve practically been running the Office of Intergovernmental Affairs,” Hudson said.
“Not really,” the first lady protested.
“The OIA is responsible for maintaining the White House's relationships with state legislators, governors, tribal leaders, mayors, and other political leaders across the country.”
“I know.”
“And that’s what you’ve been doing,” the president said.
“To get them ready for Cherry Tree and Fair and Free. Are they ever going to happen now?” Melissa questioned.
“I don’t know,” the president admitted. “But I need you back on the phone with every governor. Find out what’s happening on the ground, find out what they need, and most important, ask them how they can stop the trouble. They’ll know better than the brass in Washington how to clean up their own backyards.”
“Got it,” she said, giving him a quick kiss before heading to her own West Wing office.
“Dad,” Schueller said, “is it NorthBridge or the REMies?”
“I’m really not sure yet. It could be both, but it won’t matter in a few more days if we don’t stop it.”
“We could easily lose control,” Fitz said.
“We’re alone now,” the president said to Fitz. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
“I have no idea,” Fitz said, raising his Coke bottle in a salute.
Hudson allowed a smile.
“Dad, the REMies clearly want martial law,” Schueller said. “They’ve been strengthening the president’s ability to impose military rule through executive orders since 9/11. Look at this.” He walked over and showed his father a list on his laptop. Schueller read aloud, “President Trump renewed an emergency proclamation continuing what was supposed to be a temporary state of national emergency after the 2001 terror attacks. The executive branch has ignored a law requiring it to report to Congress every six months on how much the president has spent under those extraordinary powers. It began with President Bush signing Proclamation 7463, giving himself sweeping powers to mobilize the military in the days following the 9/11 attacks. Bush and all the presidents since, including President Obama, have renewed that emergency each year. You’ve signed it, too.”
“They told me it was a matter of national security.”
“That’s because presidents will do anything for national security,” Schueller said.
Hudson nodded.
“Obama also issued an Executive Order that outlines an extreme level of communications preparedness in case of crisis or emergency, including the ability to take over any communication network and the internet,” Schueller said. “And you all have kept renewing that one, too.”
“Guilty again,” the president said.
Fitz joined them. “Take a look at this,” he said, holding up his tablet computer. “Obama signed another Executive Order. I remember Vonner telling me it was a REMie rule. You’ve already renewed it twice.”
The president read it:
The authority of the President conferred by section 101 of the Act, 50 U.S.C. App. 2071, to require acceptance and priority performance of contracts or orders (other than contracts of employment) to promote the national defense over performance of any other contracts or orders, and to allocate materials, services, and facilities as deemed necessary or appropriate to promote the national defense, is delegated to the following agency heads:
(1) the Secretary of Agriculture with respect to food resources, food resource facilities, livestock resources, veterinary resources, plant health resources, and the domestic distribution of farm equipment and commercial fertilizer;
(2) the Secretary of Energy with respect to all forms of energy;
(3) the Secretary of Health and Human Services with respect to health resources;
(4) the Secretary of Transportation with respect to all forms of civil transportation;
(5) the Secretary of Defense with respect to water resources; and
(6) the Secretary of Commerce with respect to all other materials, services, and facilities, including construction materials.
“They weren’t just getting ready for martial law,” the president said angrily. “They’ve been looking for, and waiting for, the right moment to use operation Beta-Pi. They wanted it to happen.”
“They made it happen,” Schueller said.
Chapter Sixty-Five
As the military moved into fifty-eight American cities, the president was repeatedly called back to the Situation Room.
“Fonda Raton and more than two hundred others are posting on various internet sites in support of the protesters,” the FBI Director said. “There’s a list on your monitor showing the others. We also have pirate broadcasters, such as Thorne, who are broadcasting.”
“I know he’s managed to get on some airwaves,” the president said.
“His biggest reach is from streaming across the internet,” she said.
“You should use the switch,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said to the president. “I’m sure the Director would agree.”
She nodded.
The ‘switch,’ promoted as a countermeasure in case of a massive cyber-attack against the United States, was part of a Cyberspace Protection Act, signed into law by Hudson’s predecessor, giving the president broad authority to slow, or completely shut down, the internet.
“Censorship, isolation, invasive tactics,” the president said. “Using the kill switch is tantamount to martial law.”
“We have evidence that the rebels and other groups are using the internet to plan attacks, avoid detection, thwart our troops, and perpetuate violence,” the FBI Director said.
Hudson looked at Fitz. The Chief of Staff responded with a slight nod.
“Kill it,” the president said.
Less than half an hour later, Fonda Raton called the president’s private line.
“How dare you shut down the internet!” she blasted as he answered. “The REMies really picked a winner in you. Tell me this, did they finally get you on their side, or are you just too stupid to know they’re using you?”
“Do you see what’s happening out there!?” Hudson blasted back. “How many people are dying because of you?”
“You did this because you didn’t act fast enough to end their empire!”
“Because NorthBridge won’t give me the time I need! Your way or no way. I can still change this. Stop the uprising. Give me a chance, damn it!”
“Oh, yes, candidate Pound, ‘we are the change.’ But so far President Pound hasn’t delivered.”
“I don’t have any idea how America got to this point,” Hudson said. “Revolution, Civil War, fury in the streets, but I can—”
“Don’t you?” Fonda asked. “Think about your history, history teacher. Think back to John Anderson’s third-party candidacy in ‘76, Perot getting almost twenty percent of the vote in ‘92, the surges of Howard Dean, Ron Paul, Barack Obama coming from nowhere, and Bernie Sanders almost taking the nomination from the Establishment’s darling Hillary—of course they couldn’t let that happen. Then, Trump . . . sixty-three million people voted for an arrogant, egotistical, trinket salesman because they were so desperate for something different. The momentum has been building for decades. The beleaguered ‘voters’ could tell something was wrong, that the country was way off track. They so badly wanted someone to fix it. A long string of politicians promised they would fix it, that they would make everything better, but each promise for change turned into another lie. Just. Like. Your. Promises.”
“More rants,” Hudson said. “Rants, guns, and bombs, that’s not how to change things.”
“Then why do we have so many followers? Our movement started during Trump. NorthBrid
gers supported him as one final hope, not because they agreed with him, but because they thought he really might drain the swamp and change things, make the REMies go away and give back the country to the people.”
“Obviously Trump didn’t do that.”
“Of course not, because for all his blustery rhetoric, just like all his predecessors, the REMies also controlled him.”
“We don’t have time to debate history.”
“Conservatives hated Bill Clinton, liberals hated George W. Bush, loved Obama, and then hated Trump even more than Bush, but they were really all the same,” she said, ignoring his statement. “Clinton took plenty of military action, did massive pro-business trade deals like NAFTA and GATT, and led aggressive financial and telecommunications deregulation. Obama bombed more countries than Bush, and Trump kept it right on going, even after promising not to during his campaign. Each president does some cosmetic things to rally his base and infuriate the opposition party, but that’s to keep up the illusion of two parties. It’s only an illusion, yet few people question why, and the ones who do can’t quite figure out it’s the REMies who run the world!”
“I know all this,” Hudson said. “That’s what Cherry Tree was going to do—show the world the truth. We would force change without all the bloodshed and war.”
“You had your chance. I bought you all the time I could. Now watch us bring down the empire.”
“But the REMies aren’t a united force. There are major factions fighting for control—banks and Wall Street, military leaders and defense contractors, multinational corporations—you know all the players. How is this uprising going to stop all of them?”
“It’s all in the rebuilding,” she said. “Time’s up.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
The crackdown was necessarily swift and brutal. With troops moving into dozens of cities, drones, air support, the need for increased border security and hundreds of other “threats” that needed to be neutralized, the military was spread critically thin. Non-essential personnel were recalled from around the globe, however, the international bases could not be depleted for long. The world was watching; terrorists and other enemies saw opportunity.
