Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I
Page 1
Power Games
Operation Enduring Unity I
By R A Peters
Copyright 2014 Richard Allen Peters
ISBN-13: 978-1301843008
Kindle First Edition
Cover Art by: “The Mule”
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. I pray this always remains fiction.
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Other stories by Richard Peters:
Shock and Awe (Operation Enduring Unity II)
The Surge (Operation Enduring Unity III)
The Unreasonable Man (Sci-Fi short story collection)
The Rooster (Adult Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)
Kindle First Edition, License Notes
The author has provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.
Dedication
This novel is going out to all my brothers and sisters in every branch of the military. All those that answered the call to serve without ever asking, “What’s in it for me?” Especially to the families of those that never made it back. Gone but not forgotten!
This book is intended to give a voice to all those voiceless men and women sacrificed on the altar of power.
PS. To my endlessly patient wife: I really do love you more than my computer!
Table of Contents
The Shot Heard Round the World
Part I
Chapter 1
New York City
Los Angeles
Washington, DC
Inauguration Day
In the Midnight hour
Chapter 2
St. Augustine, Florida
Gainesville, Florida
Tallahassee, Florida
Downtown Gainesville, Florida
Washington, DC
Jacksonville International Airport, Florida
Chapter 3
Somewhere over the Okefenokee Swamp (Southeast Georgia)
Camp Blanding, Southern Access Road
Camp Blanding Airstrip
Tallahassee, Florida
Camp Blanding, Florida
Chapter 4
Context
Washington, DC
Orlando, Florida
Los Angeles, CA
Santa Monica, California
Manhattan, NY
Chapter 5
Washington, DC
Tampa, Florida
Lake Butler, Florida
Starke, Florida
Atlanta, Georgia
Chapter 6
Northeast Florida
Eufaula, Southeast Alabama
Homestead ARB, Florida
Los Padres National Forest, California
Situation Room, White House
Ocala, Florida
Part II
Chapter 7
Federal mobile command post
USS Gerald R. Ford, CVN
50 miles East of Daytona Beach, Florida
Lake City Municipal Airport
North Central Florida
Keystone Heights, Florida
I-75, just north of Gainesville
Sunny Skies over Florida
Chapter 8
20 miles northeast of Lake City, Florida
East side of Lake City
North Side of Lake City
High Tide
Chapter 9
15 miles north of Lake City
Los Padres National Forest, California
Florida
Ocala, Florida
Birmingham, Alabama
Part III
Chapter 10
Clearwater, Florida
Florida
Huntington Beach, California
Daytona, Florida
Great Divide
Chapter 11
Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada
Fort Bliss, Texas
Las Vegas
Biggs Army Airfield
Austin, Texas
Las Vegas International Airport
Chapter 12
Capitol Building, Tallahassee, Florida
Washington, DC
Havana, Cuba
Sacramento, California
Chapter 13
Sacramento, California
Fort Myers Beach, Florida
A hot spring
Just Another Day in Paradise
Part I: Cold War
Acronyms/Slang/Terminology
Description
Power Games: Operation Enduring Unity I
Welcome to the future of America. Land of chaos and home of the ambitious...
A botched assassination on the eve of Election Day throws the routine transfer of presidential authority on its head and the American government into chaos.
With Congress and the Supreme Court locked in a constitutional standoff, rabble-rousing state governors fueling the fire and shadowy opportunists pulling strings, the nation teeters on the verge of a Second Civil War.
While the politicos play their chess games, the pawns refuse to sit idly by. Sometimes the tail doesn’t wag the dog, but strangles it.
Sergeant Major John Brown, a hard charging paratrooper, is about as political as a potato. He’s the last man anyone imagined inciting a revolution…
Young Sophie Kampbell, a social justice crusader, despises violence in every form. On the other hand, when tragedy shoves her into the arms of the mysterious “Freedom Brigade” militias, she finds that a rifle delivers a lot more permanent social justice than any picket sign…
From the rhetoric-stained halls of power to the reluctant warriors on the ultramodern battlefield, get ready to take an extreme tour of the next major chapter in US history.
Keep low, stay alert, and just maybe you'll survive a tour of duty in Operation: Enduring Unity.
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The Shot Heard ‘Round the World
November 7th, 20soon
All the fluttering red, white and blue bunting had a nauseating effect, when stared at long enough through a 13-power scope. John Randall raised his cheek off the rifle’s stock and forced a ragged breath. He even managed to blink. The damn debate moderator kept droning on longer than expected. Well, after a month of planning another minute couldn’t hurt. Any moment he was going to make history.
Even from 400 yards away and four stories high, Randall could still hear the idiotic cheering fire up again. A wave of finality dampened his adrenaline fire as the beaming face of Senator Dimone came into focus. That rich tool was about to make the last speech of his perverted presidential bid.
Ah, but first he must shake hands with his opponent, Speaker of the House Terry Scott. The only real man on that stage. Randall’s vision blurred with a brief flash of regret. He wasn’t a complete psychopath. Deep down, he knew this wasn’t what the congressman meant by his famous campa
ign slogan: “Enough talk; it’s time for action!”
Sometimes though, the great men of history needed a helping hand. John had done his best the old-fashioned way, but all those long hours spent volunteering and canvassing for Scott’s campaign were just so trivial. Especially when stacked against the billion dollars poured into Dimone’s various Political Action Committees (PAC’s) by unknown donors. He shook, recalling the hopelessness of investing every spare moment of the last year in trying to save his dear country. His wife’s pitying face, even as she took his kids and left, cluttered his sight picture.
John’s teeth clacked in rage. That quack the judge ordered him to visit would probably suggest popping another pill right now. Throwing the drugs away last week was the smartest call he’d ever made. He’d never seen things so clearly. Most definitely, he wouldn’t have had the courage to deal with his enemy if still on that mind-altering crap. He rubbed his sweating palms on his pants and slid the window open.
While no one would confuse John Randall for a true sharpshooter, firing a box a day of .30-06 for a month on a 500-yard range sure builds confidence. He took up as comfortable a position as he could out on the ledge. Just like in the movies. He was even dressed head to toe in black.
The reassuring weight of his semiautomatic rifle soothed his nerves better than any drug. He had to buy the weapon with cash from some gun show, since that damn judge put his name on a list with the FBI. Like a sign from Heaven, the wind died down. Perfect. Shifting his weight, he savored the God-like sense of power from his perch. Randall drank in the grinning face of his prey at the other end of the scope…perhaps a moment too long.
With his whole world focused on the golden clasp of Dimone’s $1,000 power tie, John failed to notice some Secret Service agent near the target clutch his earpiece and shout. John sure noticed the chest-caving impact of an alert police sniper’s round ripping through his left lung a split-second later though.
His well-practiced, gentle squeeze on the trigger collapsed into an untidy jerk. John Randall’s body raced the spent casing to the ground, but he felt no regret. Relishing the fresh scent of decisive action and sweet gun smoke gave him a greater sense of peace than people would expect from someone drowning in their own blood.
*
Four hundred yards downrange, Congressman Scott wondered what kind of political stunt this was when someone yelled “Get down!” and his opponent shrieked like a schoolgirl. The pieces slowly came together when the craaack of something split the air, followed by his screaming rival falling backwards.
It all became crystal clear when the round missed Senator Dimone, struck an oversized flagpole behind him and ricocheted through the base of Congressman Scott’s neck instead. With the vertebrae shredded, Scott was dead before his body hit the ground. Even so, his disjointed head still made a comical bobbing motion closely imitating his famous, “Together, we can!” advertisements… all in front of the live, primetime coverage cameras.
Millions of voters watched their hopes die in high-definition detail. Thousands of filthy rich campaign donors saw a huge investment vanish faster than any stock market “flash crash.” Hundreds of other politicians witnessed the entire political landscape turn upside down. A half dozen television networks observed their ratings skyrocket.
Regardless of what each viewed from their unique perspectives, they all drew the same conclusion: whether they liked it or not, violence was now the decisive force in American politics.
It was a lesson none would soon forget.
Part I
“Society was cut in two: those who had nothing united in common envy; those who had anything united in common terror.”
– Alexis de Tocqueville, Recollections on the French Revolution
Chapter 1
New York City
8 November
“This isn’t news Chris. It’s just a rumor, at best. You can’t run that!” Jessica Sinclair folded her arms and glared at her producer. The man just shrugged his shoulders and poured his sixth cup of coffee. He grinned wide, without the slightest bit of self-consciousness.
“That’s why it’ll be aired as an ‘unconfirmed report,’ and that’s why you’re going to get me some other sources.”
Jessica let go her indignation long enough to give into curiosity. “Me? Why do you want a financial correspondent to report on a political story?” Her boss gave one of his rare smiles.
“Come on, Jess. Politics, finance… if you really think there’s a difference nowadays, then maybe you’re in the wrong line of work.”
Jessica snatched her purse and stormed out, only to throw it back at the tacky faux-leather chair she abandoned.
“What I mean,” she crossed her arms and began with more patience than she felt, “is how can anyone prove overnight that Senator Dimone was behind the assassination of his rival, huh? This is just mudslinging at its worst. That’s the sort of gossip politics any loud-mouthed dick could cover. I don’t see how I can add any value.” She finally sat down with a satisfied grunt.
“Your value comes precisely from not being one of those loud mouthed dicks. No other news outlet is giving this official coverage. By giving these allegations a fair hearing, by examining the facts involved, you can add that edge of legitimacy that’ll turn readers from the competition.”
“What damn facts? That’s the one thing these claims are short on.”
For the first time he took his other eye off the TV in the corner and gave this skeptical blonde his full attention. Not a good sign. He never notices a woman unless he wants something from her.
“Jessica, do you think a newspaper, even one as old as ours, runs on facts? It runs on advertisement and advertisement runs on getting attention. In the TV age, we had the edge by offering more detail than the boobtube. Now, in the internet age, we’re even getting whooped on that front. All we can offer is speculation or scandal, same as them, but from a respected source. Even better, speculation about a scandal. Let the reader make up their own mind.”
He tsked. “Jesus Christ, when did you get so naive?”
Instead of slamming her head against the brick wall of profitability, Jessica changed tack. “My readers aren’t going to care after the election results come in tonight. It’s the hot topic at the moment, sure, but the outcome changes nothing. What does it matter who’s president anyway? Everyone says the same thing. Congress is just going to sit on their collective do-nothing asses. The figurehead occupying the Oval Office is small change.”
“Jessica, this has nothing do with the individual candidate. This, like everything else, is all about money. Do you have any idea how much has been spent on these two campaigns? Add in the PACS on top of the direct donations and we’re at two billion dollars for each contender. Wars have been fought and nations conquered for less than this election cost. Do you really think people, especially the power-brokering types involved here, are just going to write off a multi-billion dollar investment without a fight? I don’t know how it’ll all go down, but my gut says the real campaign is just beginning.”
He downed his coffee like a shot and hooted.
“I’m telling you, this is going to be an epic story and it’s going to happen with or without you. Will you be a part of it, or just watch on television like everyone else?”
As disgusted as she was, Jessica was still a professional. She kicked his desk and grunted. “Fine. When do I leave?”
Los Angeles
10 November
The experts on the bi-partisan panel were in top form. Each talking head was carefully screened to ensure only the most radical pundits were available. The famous talk show hadn’t climbed the charts by indulging in moderation. The producer’s last minute change to the lineup, by replacing that boring constitutional law professor with a more media savvy ex-politician made the difference. Ratings were up a good two points higher than expected.
“The election results are neither unconstitutional nor without precedent. As I wrote in my new book,
the Dark Side of Power, available at all major retailers for only $29.99, this has happened twice before in American electoral history. In 1800 and 1824, neither candidate won a majority in the Electoral College. In accordance with the 12th Amendment, the House of Representatives chose the next president, just like they’ll have to do now.”
The debate moderator didn’t bother pointing out that no one claimed the election outcome was either unconstitutional or new. It wasn’t his job to keep the talking heads grounded. Only to keep them arguing. He stoked the coals some more.
“So, a Republican will be chosen by the Republican majority in Congress and the Democrats just have to take it?”
A disgraced former congressman gesticulated the loudest, which meant he got the camera close up. “Absolutely not! Senator Dimone might not have won the electoral majority, but he received far more votes than Scott’s running mate. We cannot allow the Republicans to upturn democracy and install Mr. Pierce into the Oval Office against the will of the voters. This is the defining moment of our age. My fellow Democratic colleagues have a mandate from the people to make sure the right-wing fascists can’t steal this election like they have so many others. We’ll fight tooth and nail for the honor of our republic!”
An ultra-conservative, ex-politico turned reality TV star grabbed the spotlight. “Reallly? That’s exactly why we need to have faith in our conservative leaders. We can’t let these iddy biddy, left-wing communists derail the democratic process. The government has been lying and spying for eight years now. I say it’s time for freedom to stop dying and time for Washington to start crying!”
The debate moderator wasn’t sure what the hell she was talking about, but it got a standing ovation from the audience regardless. He tried to give her time for another sound bite when the unthinkable happened. Despite his reputation as a kook, the old Libertarian masquerading as a Republican dropped some buzz kill bombs.
“This whole argument is irrelevant anyway. This decision won’t be decided along party lines. The Republican majority was always pretty slim. The swing votes will be coming from the dozens of incoming congressional members. By the Constitution’s rules, only the new Congress gets a voice. This all-important vote will be their first taste of power. You can bet the outgoing politicians will be bitter, and oh boy, how! They’ll do whatever they can to influence this historic decision they legally can’t make. Mark my words, this will be a ‘corrupt bargain’ the likes of which our country has never seen. Democracy will be the loser, regardless of who wins the White House.”