2047: Hell In A Handbasket

by D. Frank Green

  "Last minute change in plans. Momma called and said the old man here needed some - how did she put it , oh yeah- 'encouragement' to get his act in gear and move out of this town," said Sarah. "Me? I heard the old man here found a new BBQ place and got presidential-sized portions."

  "You have good news for me, Jack? I can use some now so don't hesitate," said George. "I haven't seen that smile since you won the office pool on the Series."

  "Well, Mr. President, I can confirm Atkinson's information that we wrapped up almost the entire Anonymous cell that was feeding Gordon his stories. One had quit the group and is already working for QuellCorp. Another was a prof but has now taken a leave," said Hagin. " One is a special case and the last one escaped and we don't know where he is. The ones we have are all sitting in our holding cells waiting for us to decide what to do with them."

  George smiled and nodded, "Good stuff, please pass my congratulations along to those who did the work on this one."

  "QuellCorp?" asked Sarah in an rising tone that emphasized the question and raising her eyebrow.

  Jack said, "I thought you'd like that. Yeah but he hasn't been active since he joined you guys. He says - and his logs confirm this - he's been mostly listening. But he's good so you should be able to use him. At least use him carefully."

  "The "special case" one?" asked George.

  "Yes, Sir. The special case one I mentioned turns out to be a NSA agent and he received a commendation. He's already working on his next target group," said Jack.

  Jack's smile disappeared. He looked down at the rug, took two seconds before speaking, and when he looked back at the other two, his face was solemn. "But, Mr. President, there's also unfortunate news. It seems your reporter friend Ed Gordon was killed in an aircraft accident. Turns out he hitched a ride on a government drone-transport and the computer guidance system malfunctioned. The system flew the aircraft into a rather tall hill rather than over it. In fact, Mr. President, it turns out there were ten reporters on the flight and they're all dead. Seems they figured how to get themselves on those drone-transports we use to shuttle stuff around the country. That's how they evaded our detection systems for the last few months."

  "Sad news for his family. All their families. I'll have calls set up and do a press conference. I'll praise all of them for the fine tradition they maintained. It's a sad day for all of us when we lose those who speak the truth, etc. etc. I'm sure my writers can come up with a few other thoughts," said George.

  "Yes, Sir. They were getting inconvenient to have hopping around and it was fortunate for us they used those drones and considered their use a secret. It shouldn't blow our cover stories on the others we're tracking," said Hagin.

  Hagin looked to his left, "Sarah, you didn't have anything to do with this, did you?" asked Hagin.

  "No, Sir. No idea who set that reboot command on the guidance systems," said Sarah. She raised an eyebrow. She allowed the corner of her mouth to rise.

  George leaned back as Jack smiled.

  None of them needed words; this vexing problem was solved and none regretted doing it this easily.

  Now, as long as the big phase goes as smoothly, thought Sarah.

  05/11/2047 04:55

  President Gwinnett was the second President to invade Canada. Madison tried in 1812 and failed but Gwinnett was certain the outcome would be different this time. He'd gone to the White House Situation Room deep in the basement where full comm links had been established. Screens filled the walls and their screens showed a variety of early morning activities; from the rail yards with the last of the troops boarding, to the border crossing itself with one car in line.

  "Good morning, Sarah, been here long?" It was just after 5am and Sarah wasn't known for being an early riser, unlike her father who bounced out of bed with the sun every morning no matter how late he was up the night before.

  "Beat you by an hour. You getting old and slack over here?" said Sarah. She toasted her father with a steaming cup of coffee.

  "Any time you want to try me, girl, just let me know and we can set up a competition. First awake all week wins," said Gwinnett raising his own mug.

  "Crap, that's not a competition. You've been in Washington too long already, your brain is rotting if you think that's fun," said Sarah.

  Gwinnett laughed out loud; something he hadn't done in a long time. There were so many serious problems on his desk every day that laughing was out of the ordinary around the White House. There just wasn't much to laugh about being the President he thought.

  Gwinnett's mind swung back to one of tense preparation and his pre-battle tension. He knew they had overwhelming technology and support but something always went wrong and bit back. He hoped nothing would bite too hard this time. The planning was done, every contingency quantified and entered into the battle simulations. Sarah and the senior QuellCorp staff worked through these plans over the last month. It was time for somebody to give the final go-command and this fell to Gwinnett.

  "Sarah, execute the plan. At exactly 05:10. Mark the time now is 05:05."

  "Yes, Sir, executing Project Future Forward on the mark. All teams stand by for go-signal."

  Gwinnett thought the last minutes of these countdowns were the longest damn times of his life. He knew everybody felt the same way; not knowing whether this was your last day on this earth or whether you'd screw up something that reached out and killed your men. The men, from the computer staff who were about to set up jam all North America communication channels, the techs running the lasers, drones and cruise missiles right through to the men who'd roll north, all stared at the same clock and did the same countdown. Gwinnett knew without a doubt the same concerns and butterflies pounded to be let out of their stomachs.

  As he heard the countdown reach ten, the calmness of action took center stage in his mind. This was the same feeling Gwinnett got just after deciding to parachute out of a plane and, in the microsecond between the decision and the action, a sense of resignation and let's-just-do-this determination would fill him, making the action inevitable and doable. Gwinnett knew this feeling, had felt the same thing more than once, and smiled as it swept over him. Everything would be fine, he decided.

  "Go, Go, Go," ordered Sarah.

  Gwinnett stood to walk around the room examining the various command monitors. He watched as the cruise-missile tracks appeared on the look-down radar screens as they sped out to every Canadian Armed Forces Base. The missiles would inflict physical damage to response-critical buildings, the hangers, runways, communication systems, and command headquarters across the country. Two hundred missile trails started at Grand Rapids and fanned out from there. The first missiles would explode in ten minutes and while it would take longer to destroy targets to the east and west, there were enough in the air to reduce Canadian battle capacity by 98 percent. They even targeted the small city of Kingston because of the Royal Military College, the training school for officers. The school would soon cease to exist and along with it, nearby Fort Henry, built after Madison's folly. There would be nothing left standing to offer or remind anybody of serious resistance. No possible defense, no matter how antiquated, would be allowed to stand.

  "Engage laser tracking programme."

  This was the heart of the attack. The key Generals and Commanders, the air-traffic control centers, all comm-centers in Ottawa, the nation's capital city, as well as the National Defense headquarters were slated for killing or demolition. All politicians at both the federal and provincial levels were targeted. Most were still in bed except for those on the far East coast but it didn't matter. The laser quickly moved from east to west killing targeted individuals. Gwinnett knew it wouldn't be one-hundred percent effective, no battle plan ever was, but he was confident the spine of any possible resistance would be snapped.

  "Ground troops roll," ordered Sarah.

  Gwinnett knew the border crossing wouldn't be a problem. The customs officers and crossing facilities had been sky-whipped by the lasers in the firs
t pass. There was nobody and not much of anything left. The lead vehicles in the convoy were the high-speed route-clearing trucks. Developed for overseas work, these were large, very powerful, heavily armored, tracked snowplows able to clear a path through darn near anything. There'd be little in those customs booths to stop those monsters, Gwinnett knew.

  Five thousand troops sat in troop-carrier-railroad cars on three separate trains and they now rolled. Gwinnett knew this was a potential problem because of the concentrated numbers. There was only one line heading north to his destination and no matter what he did, if the line were destroyed, the convoy stopped. He'd sent track repair machinery as part of the lead convoy just in case. These men were going to take over all key spots such as bridges and cross roads all the way up to Churchill.

  Ten plane loads were tasked for Winnipeg, the major city on the route, to control the airport and train marshaling yards. Three loads of troops were in the air en route to occupy Churchill, Manitoba, the final destination. As the largest deep-water port in the north, and a major grain shipping port, it was a plump target. The airport there wasn't large and was defended by a few local police. It was the only airport in the country spared destruction and runway demolition. His troops would arrive to find a fully functional airport and would quickly assume control of it, the city and port.

  Gwinnett paced around the Situation Room and watched the satellite monitors as the missiles gave a brief flare as their trail disappeared. He knew men died in those flares, likely good men, too, but it couldn't be helped. Reports started coming over his headset from the Briefing Officer, updating on missile strike and laser effectiveness. The number of targets eliminated grew as did the leadership body counts. Within ten minutes of the lasers starting, the Prime Minister, his cabinet and almost all sitting members of Parliament were killed in their beds. Or, in three cases, somebody else's bed. Every officer above the rank of Captain died and all comm buildings and the entire Canadian Security Agency disappeared. Not even those who had been friendly to QuellCorp in the past were spared.This was no time to be sentimental Gwinnett decided and there should only be one set of survivors. His.

  "Laser systems report 87 percent effective kill, Sir. We've moved them to hunter-seeker mode to identify and kill all remaining targets," said Sarah.

  Gwinnett's stomach relaxed. The armed forces equipment, government, all defense command and control systems for the Canadians were eliminated. QuellCorp was on the move with no possibility of organized resistance.

  05/11/2047 12:20

  "Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, I understand it looks like the United States has attacked Canada and yes, I know it used to be your colony and you have emotional ties to its welfare, but my former company has done this and not the United States government. No American troops were involved in any way," said Gwinnett.

  "No Sir, that is not a technicality. The United States position is this private company has not broken any of our laws. We can't stop or contain any of its actions if it's not on our soil. It is not our responsibility to arrest and detain those men. What can I legally do if no laws were broken?"

  The click of the disconnect could be heard across the room and Gwinnett looked at the now-silent desktop unit, smiled and said, "I believe that's a physical impossibility, Mr. Prime Minister."

  "Call Sarah." The call connected with Sarah's in the White House Situation Room.

  "How's it going?"

  "There's no effective Canadian resistance. The lasers eliminated their air force, missiles destroyed the landing strips so there's no air problems coming our way. We're searching for drones but haven't found any yet. Command and control functions are destroyed and any time we find any attempt at establishing resistance, the lasers eliminate it. So far we've taken out just short of a dozen attempts. There are troops massing at Ontario's Camp Borden and in the Maritimes. We're leaving the Maritimes alone; that's the bolt hole for any resistance and we can deal with it all in one swoop later," said Sarah.

  "Borden is fifteen minutes from being wasted by a second targeted wave of missiles and we'll do a laser pass after that. The west coast is disorganized but the kill rate in the military there is significant. In short, there's no problem and no resistance. We lost a few men when they rolled their jeep trying to take an on-ramp too fast - one dead and three injured. But the first wave has just passed the hundred mile mark on the way north of the border and the video of them blowing through Canadian customs and taking out the booths to clear two full lanes is spectacular. I've sent it to your private vid channel. There was, of course, no resistance left at the crossing point by the time they got there. The lasers did their work. We're rolling better than expected. If something slows us down, I'll let you know."

  "Thanks, Sarah, sounds good and you've done a great job sorting all this out. I'll give your momma a big hug for you. You can give her onr for yourself later. I know she'll want to see you as soon as I tell her things have worked out. Keep me in the loop as the day goes on. "

  "Yes, Sir."

  Gwinnett sat motionless for a few minutes evaluating the day's likely outcome. Of course, there would be international outrage. China would be as threatening as hell until he pointed out the massing of the troops on their eastern border aimed at Russia. There'd be other fake outrage as well; he could count on the toothless Russians to bluster their way onto the news and the Europeans would be go into high dudgeon. The French with their French-Canadian connection, would complain bitterly about their cultural heritage being despoiled. We'll take care of the Europeans by asking who they were currently killing in former colonies, he decided.

  He knew the vid press would have a field day with this and there'd be many stories after the first news briefing. But, he smiled, there will be fewer stories tonight then we might have expected otherwise.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur as Gwinnett did countless interviews with the major networks, talked to all major leaders in the G30, amused himself with the Chinese by pointing out the massed troops along their northern border, and asking if he should practice laser tag with them or whether they'd prefer to back off and stay silent on this issue. He particularly enjoyed asking the French Prime Minister if he'd like to have his troops removed from Africa by nightfall after he expressed his outrage. Prime Minister Pointreau was not amused. At that point, with food and energy assured from the north, support for President Gwinnett approached record levels. By five o'clock, everyone understood this was a done deal and nothing could or would change this invasion-by-proxy. World outrage muted, domestic approval ratings climbed and the talking heads of all major vid networks and the few remaining newspapers all agreed it was a positive step for the U.S.

  Predictably, there were isolated protests across the country, but local security troops monitored them and none got out of hand. All protestors were, however, identified by satellite cams and notes placed in their personnel files.

  07/11/2047 07:00

  Charlie Webster and his friends sat at their normal spot in the sunny window at the Corner Spot Cafe sipping their coffee with more to talk about than they'd had in any recent memory. Nobody was sure of the rules given how many people QuellCorp had killed. But these men talked freely and openly as they'd always done.

  "You know anybody who got killed in these gang sweeps?"

  Charlie smiled and shook his head, "Not one of them, not me. You?"

  There was a uniform shaking of heads around the table but Matt, the former banker, looked thoughtful. "This situation just depends where Gwinnett takes us next. He's being pretty quiet about it. But you know bad cream rises and the stink is worse at the very top. So don't expect too much from anybody is all I have to say. Those money people don't give a damn about any of us and you know that's true."

  Charlie nodded along with his friend. He didn't give a damn about the government anymore. He had just been offered four hundred acres of virgin farmland up north and it was all his free and clear when he arrived to claim it.

  Sarah Gwinnett had
called and given him this message and gift from her father. Sarah had also given him her contact points telling him to send along a few names of those who could take care of the land and were good farmers. She'd emphasized not to send anybody who didn't want to work or wasn't good at farming but said if Charlie vouched for them, they'd get an offer from one of her staff.

  Charlie had agreed and he and Betty started packing right away. He'd pull the house furniture and everything he could strip out of the house, including that big old kitchen table, on his old hay hauling trailer with the big RV they'd used in better times. The RV would also give them a place to live until he got a house built. And he'd already arranged a swap of cattle for a big machinery float so he could haul his remaining tractor and machinery up north with the one-ton truck. It would be tough on the truck and a hell of a ride but he'd be damned if he would buy or finance anything new again; he'd learned that lesson the hard way. Betty could drive the RV and he'd haul in the truck. It would be slow but it'd be a new start and he'd still be farming.

  Too bad Matt wasn't a farmer he thought. Too bad. Maybe if he worked with us he'd be fine though and that thought brought a smile back to his face. He'd always wanted a hired hand. Together they'd have eight hundred acres of decent farmland and that would be a good enough start for both families. Matt would learn quickly enough working together and could take on his own place. The edge of his mouth curved further.

  "Whatcha thinking, Charlie? You're awful quiet and you got that funny smile on your face?"

  So he told them of their future.

  07/11/2047 18:00

  "It strange to know we now own an entire country. I've been working on details all day and they just keep coming." said George at dinner that night. He and Sarah enjoyed an informal meal of BBQ pork and coleslaw in the White House kitchen. "Don't tell your mamma we're doing this. She'll be after me about the calories. She's been calorie counting on me again hoping I'm going to lose a few pounds. I love that woman but she can be a terror."