by Adam Yoshida
Jackson ran his hands over the map, pinching and zooming while looking for an angle.
“We just need to get there first,” he said, “get me General Dunford.”
Unified Army Group Headquarters, Hamilton, Ontario
“With this division coming up to block us, I’m not sure that I see a clear way out, General,” said Colonel Chernow.
“No,” agreed General Wesley, “certainly not for everyone.”
What was left of the Unified Army Group was heading across southwestern Ontario as fast as it could. But the soldiers who remained were low on fuel and supplies.
“These soldiers will still fight,” said Wesley quietly.
“Will they?” said Chernow.
“Yes,” said Wesley firmly, “and I think that, after all that we’ve asked of them, the best that we can do is to give them the chance to get the best deal possible. After all, many of them came to us from prison or other hard conditions and they’re looking at prison - or worse - after they surrender. A lot of them will presumably be deported along with their families all other things begin equal. If they can hold out under arms for just a little bit longer, then they can probably get more lenient terms from the new Administration. For all we know, otherwise, all of us are going to end up being hanged for treason or some other such crime.”
“Well,” said Chernow, “I can buy that. But the reality is that, with the weather conditions and our supply situation, there’s just no fucking way that we’re going to make it to Chicago. Not with well-supplied tanks on our tail and with another division blocking our path.”
“Perhaps not Chicago,” conceded Wesley, “but what about Detroit?”
“I think that, with our current pace, the 4th Infantry Division is going to beat us to it,” replied Chernow.
“Well, if what we require is an urban area where we’ll find at least some friends and that they can’t just bomb into dust, what about Buffalo?” said Wesley.
Chernow sighed.
“I don’t have a better idea,” he said.
The White House, Washington, DC
Acting President Rickover had been surprised to find that much of the technology in place in the Situation Room was actually a generation behind that they’d been using in their “temporary” facility in Colorado Springs. Technicians were already hard at work on upgrading, but that meant that, for the meanwhile, they were stuck to using a temporary display that had been installed on the middle of the giant table that dominated the room.
“Weather is very adverse in the Buffalo area right now, Mr. President,” explained General Monroe.
“That does cut both ways, though,” noted Secretary Preston, “I don’t think that the FNASA has anything like the sort of cold weather gear that’d normally be issued for operating in that sort of environment. Of course, from what we’re seeing, they’re probably planning on operating primarily indoors. Which, of course, will make fighting them harder overall.”
Weakened as it was, the FNASA forces had had little difficulty in overrunning the handful of National Guard units that had been stationed along the Ontario-New York border and moving into a city whose civil authorities had acknowledged the Federation as their superior government until just days earlier.
The map that was displayed in front of the men and women assembled around the table showed almost the entire country in blue now. Originally it had displayed areas under the control of the U.S. Government in red, but someone had complained that that had potentially partisan overtones and so the colors had been flipped. The Federation of North American States now consisted of the pocket around Chicago, a roving area representing the position of the Unified Army Group, and some outlying areas of Canada and New England.
“What’s left, though, is the tough stuff,” noted General Monroe, “we caught a heck of a break when they didn’t put up much of a fight in New York City and because we were able to spend so much time carefully picking out targets in the DC area. I don’t even think that we have the beginning of a plan to fight in Buffalo and now we have units from both of our major field forces converging on the place.”
“Part of the problem, Mr. President,” said Monroe, “is that a lot of the people who are left with the FNASA are going to fight to the very end… Well… Because of you, sir. They’re either hardcore ideological people who are simply devoted to the cause, or they tend to fall into groups that assume that they’ll get better terms from the President-elect than from you. For example, people who were illegal immigrants or criminals let out by Kevin Bryan’s decrees.”
“We’ve already tried to speak to the President-elect on this matter,” noted Ira Skelton, “or at least to his transition team. He wasn’t very helpful in that regard. I mean in terms of clarifying what his policies in these areas would be.”
“He wants to let us do the heavy lifting and then take all of the credit,” complained Secretary Preston.
“We can’t do much about that,” said Rickover, “let’s deal with the situation that’s in front of us now and what we can do in the time that we have left.”
“Perhaps we should consider what additional inducements might cause some of these people to lay down their weapons,” said General Monroe.
“Is that code for saying that we should offer amnesty to criminals and illegal aliens, General?” asked Skelton.
“Look,” said Monroe, “I don’t want to get too deeply into the politics of all of this. There’s been enough of that already. I want to minimize the risk to the soldiers in the field and I can tell you right now that people who are incentivized to fight until the very end are going to cause damage, even if it’s inevitable that they’ll ultimately lose.”
“Well,” said the Acting President, “we won’t be doing the country any favors if we agree to let all of these people run loose, now are we?”
“Mr. President,” said the General, “I think that that’s a political decision. I’m just talking about the military consequences of the situation that now exists on the ground.”
“We have a little over two months to go,” said Rickover, “we don’t need to panic. Let’s just take this nice and easy and move one step at a time. I’m not going to give pardons to hundreds of thousands - or even millions - of criminals that Kevin Bryan let go. Mitch Randall might. I won’t. So we can just forget about that notion right now. Now, General, how many soldiers do they have in Buffalo?”
“Our best estimate is that the Unified Army Group has been reduced to approximately 50,000 effectives,” said Monroe.
“The hard core,” said the Acting President.
“Yes, Mr. President,” said Preston.
“Inside of Buffalo, New York. They have, in essence, taken an American city as a hostage,” said Rickover.
“That would be one way of viewing it, Mr. President,” said Preston.
“Tell MacKenzie that we need him to turn the Army of Northern Virginia towards Buffalo. We’ll take back that city and then we’ll move on to Chicago. What is the situation on that front right now?” said Rickover.
“Our estimate is that there are 150,000 effectives in the Chicago area. Plus perhaps another 100,000 people who might use weapons against us, but who aren’t trained to anything like military standards,” said General Monroe.
“In other words, we’re going to be facing a quarter of a million people in greater metropolitan area that has, what, ten million people in it?” said Rickover.
“Ten million was the pre-war estimate, Mr. President” said Monroe, “right now we think it’s more than that.”
“How many?”
“It’s pretty much impossible for us to say. There’s been a lot of refugee traffic both ways. But the reports that we’re getting from the region - about housing overcrowding, for example - suggest that there’s been a notable increase,” answered Monroe.
“If we assemble everything that we have: XII Corps, the Army of Northern Virginia, the rest of the old Third Army, and most of the major formations in the We
st, how fast can we take the city?” asked Rickover.
“It’s tough to say, Mr. President,” said Monroe, “we don’t have a good idea how big their supply stockpile is. Some of it would depend on how hard we’re going to try and make things on the civilian population of the region. If we went in heedless of casualties, we could probably do it in a week. If we did that - if we launched a direct assault - it might turn out to be something like the First Gulf War. They might fold in hours. On the other hand, it could make Stalingrad look like a playdate if they’re determined to fight to the last man.”
“That’s a pretty big range, General,” said Rickover, “can’t you narrow it down at all?”
“No, sir,” said the General, his eyes meeting the President’s with a hard and sombre look, “there are just too many unknown unknowns for us to plan for. We’ll have to, to borrow a phrase, launch an attack to see what happens.”
“That’s a lot to ask,” replied Rickover.
“It is, Mr. President, which is why I must say that my military recommendation - as much as I am nervous to offer any suggestion that could be said to have political overtones - is to agree to negotiations at this point in time. The assessment of the Joint Chiefs of Staff as to the military costs of successive assaults upon Buffalo and Chicago is that, all told, they could cost close to one million lives.”
“One million?” asked the President flatly.
“That’s at the upper range of our predicted numbers, but we can’t rule it out. Not if we’re fighting with artillery and air support in densely-packed residential neighborhoods. We have some contingency plans that would see those overall numbers reduced by restricting the level of force allowable to our forces, but that would see a very large increase in our own military losses. I don’t imagine that you would be amenable to that.”
“No,” said Rickover.
“Mr. President,” said the Secretary of State, “I must say that, from a more political point of view, I have to concur with the assessment of General Monroe. All of our simulations say that the cost of these final assaults will be immense, both in human and political terms. Especially when one considers the… unique… political position of this Administration… We are looking at being condemned by much of the world for gains that will probably be fairly minimal. There’s no way that the Federation can expect to have anything like an independent existence now. The most that they’re going to be looking for is the assurance that they’re not all going to be hanged or jailed. Perhaps they’ll argue for independence for parts of Canada after the war is done and, really, aren’t we going to concede that in the end anyways?”
“Fuck politics,” said Rickover flatly.
“Mr. President?” said Secretary Simpson.
“I said fuck politics,” replied Rickover, raising his voice slightly. The Acting President stood up and began to walk around the table.
“It is not enough for us to win this war militarily. It is not even enough for us to simply re-unify the country. We are fighting a cancer that has been allowed to spread through all of this country for decades. If we do not purge this cancer from our body politic to the absolute best of our ability, then it will regroup and metastasize once more and I will not have it.”
“We need to wholly crush the Federation by the 20th of January. That is our goal and what we will be doing between now and then. If you’re not committed to that goal - if you think that it’s wrong or you feel that you otherwise need to focus on maintaining your political viability then quite right now and see what Mitch Randall will do for you. That goes for the people in uniform and out of it around this table.”
The Acting President looked around and met the eyes of each of the men and women who sat around the Situation Room. Silence reigned.
“Ok then,” said Rickover, “let’s get to it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Little Mutiny
Fond du Lac, Wisconsin
Major General Augustus King slowly walked up and down the long rows of hastily-assembled machinery. He was amazed by, given the scale of the operations, the absence of sound. He’d been in factories before and he’d never seen anything like this.
“You get used to it,” said the Factory Manager as he came upon King standing and turning around in wonder, “they’re actually quieter than most standard office printers. They originally designed them to be used in offices. There was a whole warehouse full of them and so we just set them up.”
“Who designed these?” asked King.
“Some kid in high school, if you can believe it,” said the Manager.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” said King.
“Nope,” replied the manager, “he e-mailed us the files and we checked them out. His plans were about 95% in line with the things that we’re actually putting out.”
General King had been with the rest of the Army of Northern Virginia when contacts from Praetorian International had reached out to ask him to fly up to Wisconsin. Now, walking amidst the rows of 3D printers, he understood why.
“We thought that this would be better seen in person,” said the former Secretary of State who served as the Chairman of Praetorian International’s Board of Directors.
“We could have used these back in Virginia,” said King, “or on the St. Lawrence, for that matter.”
“Well, there are always difficulties with putting ideas into practice before they’re developed,” said the Chairman.
“We’ve got one set up just outside,” said the manager as he led General King and the Chairman of the Board out the door.
The three men walked outside and into the cold. King carefully pulled his overcoat closed as they walked amidst the falling snow. On the field outside the door a small area had been cleared. As the men walked forward the Chairman spoke.
“Of course, it’s in our best interests to make sure that this war ends in the total victory of the Federal Government,” said the Chairman, “since we have over a hundred billion dollars on the line in these closing days of the war. But, more than, that, we’ve been looking for a way to be seen to assist.”
The object sitting in the clearing wasn’t particularly visually impressive. To King’s eyes it looked like something that might easily be mistaken for a child’s toy. It was a small plastic aircraft that was just three feet in length.
“Welcome guys,” said another man who was standing at the edge of the field with a small tablet.
The man began to manipulate the controls and the tiny aircraft began to move down the field. It took off and began to pick up speed. The plane quickly took off and gained altitude. As it moved forward it began to accelerate. The Chairman nudged King in the shoulder and pointed to an old car that was parked off to the side of the field. The small drone made a quick turn and came back towards the three observers. The small drone continued to pick up speed as it completed its turn and moved back towards the clearing in the field. As it approached the airfield it took a sharp turn towards the ground, moving into a sharp dive that took it towards the car. Finally it impacted the car and exploded. The blast was enough to shatter the vehicle in an instant.
“Jesus!” shouted King.
“Yep,” said the Chairman.
“How much of a punch does that thing pack?” asked King.
“Around twenty pounds worth of improved high explosive,” said the manager.
“Nice,” replied the General, “and I read that they have a range of around thirty kilometres?”
“About that,” answered the manager, “a lot of that depends upon the battery packs. We’ve had to import those from China and they’ve proven to be of pretty variable quality. I’d say that twenty-five is more like the average.”
“They’ll make of an assist for us,” said King, “how many of them do we have?”
“Well,” said the manager, “the thing to remember is that we don’t have a full production line running. Basically, we’re printing the components, assembling them by hand, and then installing their ba
tteries and the explosive charges. It’s the latter that are really the limiting factor, since they’ve proven to be in pretty limited supply.”
“Fair enough,” said King, “how many?”
“Oh,” said the manager laconically, “around ten thousand or so with another five hundred coming off the lines every single day.”
Democratic Union, Temporary Office of the American Commissioner, Chicago, Illinois
The Deputy Minister of Agriculture for Food Safety was the most senior official of the domestic wing of the government to remain in Chicago. The Minister had fled less than a week before. The senior Deputy had lasted three days before he had given up and decided to depart as well. That had left the third-ranking official in the department, a man who had been a first-term state legislator just two years before. The Deputy Minister cleared his throat as he clicked his trackpad and moved on to the next slide in his Powerpoint deck.
“At this point the presence of both the regular U.S. armed forces as well as constant insurgent activity has made moving supplies extremely hazardous. The best recommendation that can be made in this regard by the Department is that goods should only been transported by road, at least outside of the immediate vicinity of Cook County, only under guard and only when absolutely necessary.”
He changed to the next slide.
“Unescorted attempts to move goods, as you can see here have been interdicted some 24% of the time over the last month.”
“So, what you’re saying is that 76% of our supply runs managed to get through last month,” said the Justice Minister and Acting Minister of Defense.
“Yes, that’s another way of putting it, Minister,” said the Deputy Minister.
“Well,” said the Justice Minister smugly, “I think that’s a little less dire than it was initially made to sound.”
“Actually,” replied the Deputy Minister, “with all due respect, it’s much worse than it sounds because we aren’t simply losing the cargos, we are losing the capacity to move them as well. We lost a quarter of our ability to move goods, not only the goods themselves.”
