Redemption (14 page)

“Theo is nothing short of a genius.  He sent this message using Morse code.”

“Morse code?”

“Yes, Mr. President.  Hal intercepted the message from a reconnaissance satellite.  Theo managed to get his hands on a high powered spotlight at an abandoned airfield.”

“Are you telling me the colonel gave his life to get us this message?  The Chinese aren’t blind, they must have spotted it.”

“The Chinese didn’t see a thing.  The colonel spent upwards of an hour to relay the message, one letter at a time.  He repeated the message six times before the sun came up.”

“And you know it’s from him?

“Yes, Mr. President.  His authentication code preceded each message.”

“Do we have any way to extract Colonel Forrest and get more intel from him?”

“No, Mr. President, he’s on his own.  Theo’s one of our best, he’ll make it back.”

Marshall slumped down in his chair, defeated.  “This changes everything.  We cannot sit idly by while the Chinese slaughter our people and make our land their own.  They hold the line at the Mississippi and if we come charging over the Rockies the war will be over.  They outnumber us three to one and have enough firepower to wipe us out before we could get half way across the Great Plains.  What the hell are we going to do, Richard?”

“Mr. President, how quickly can the vice president be here?”

“Hal?”

“Yes, Mr. President.  I have informed Vice President Harris and he will depart Seattle in the next ten minutes.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Vice President Maxwell Harris was aboard Air Force Two en route to Beck Castle.  He had departed Seattle four hours ahead of schedule, which suited him just fine.  His sudden departure meant he could cancel a long string of boring meetings.  While he was content to leave behind his fake smiles, he was concerned that the president had recalled him so abruptly.  Max was well aware that the bulk of his duties as the vice president was to serve as a buffer for his boss.  Everyone wanted the president’s ear for all manners of triviality and most were content to spend ten minutes with Max. 

“Okay, Hal, we’re in the air.  Tell me what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir.  Direct your attention to the main screen.”

Max looked at the brief report detailing Theo’s message.  “Hal, is that it?”

“Unfortunately, it is, sir.”

“Really wish we had more to go on.  What’s the plan?”

“Sir, at the request of the president, I am still attempting to accumulate more definitive intelligence so that an operation with favorable odds of success can be carried out.”

“Hal, I’m sure you are.  Any luck?”

“Sir, I am currently examining and comparing vast amounts of information to confirm the report sent by Colonel Forrest.  I will present my findings to you, the president, and General Dupree shortly after we land.”

“Fair enough.  What is my wife up to?”

“Sir, Mrs. Harris and the First Lady are in San Fransisco for the reopening of the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Now that’s a PR trip I would have actually enjoyed.”

“Sir, your wife is much more attractive than you.”

“You’re getting funnier, Hal.”

“Thank you, sir.  I have been making an effort.”

“Howard would be proud.”

“Yes, sir, I know he would.”

Max paused for a moment and a small glimmer of a smile cracked through his pain induced scowl.  He wasn’t sure if Hal’s reply carried with it a bit of sadness or if he was merely projecting his own.  Could the artificial intelligence long for the company of his deceased creator?  Howard always viewed his relationship with Hal as father and son.  Did Hal consider himself as having lost a father?  Did he miss him?

“I take it Chrissy Dupree is with my son?”

“Yes, sir, that is correct.  Would you like to speak to her?”

Max was about to say yes but thought better of it.  Richard Dupree’s sixteen-year-old daughter was a mature, competent babysitter.  His little boy was in good hands.  “No, it can wait.  I’ll check on them later today.”

“Very good, sir.”

Max spent the rest of the flight trying to calm his nerves.  His battle with chronic pain had its ups and downs.  Being medicated brought with it a hazy fog that the vice president tried to avoid.  On the other hand, the pain made him angry and bitter, a combination that was not suited for politics.  The only thing he could do was find a middle ground.  Over the counter pain medication was weak, but it dulled the horrific pain enough for him the function.  In his current state, however, he would normally admit defeat and indulge in narcotics.  Given what was at stake with Colonel Forrest’s report, he needed a clear and focused mind.  He would have to settle with his cane.

Max exited Air Force Two and slowly made his way to the elevator that would take him far beneath the surface to Beck Castle.  Once on the command level, he walked the long corridor to the command center and was pleased that he did not have to wait outside the outer door.  Richard Dupree was waiting just inside.

“Max!  Glad you could join us.  How was your flight?”

“It was fine.  How’s Nevada?”

“Hot.”

Max sat down in front of the ten-foot high spherical monitor.  Formal etiquette dictated that is was highly disrespectful to sit down before the president and even more so to not shake his hand before taking your seat.  Max would never do this in public and Marshall Beck didn’t really mind.  He hated being coddled and fussed over just as much as his father did when he was alive.  In the company of friends, he enjoyed being treated a normal person.

The president didn’t waste time.  “Hal?  What have you got for us?”

A map of the Chinese-American territory zoomed into view in front of them.  “Gentlemen, after careful review of the data at hand, I have surmised that Colonel Forrest’s report holds merit.  Reviewing images from reconnaissance satellites over the past eleven days has shown something out of the ordinary.  While it does not confirm Colonel Forrest’s report, it does indicate that something of significance is taking place.”

Richard interrupted, “Elaborate, please.”

“Yes, General.  I have compared the movements of the population of the Chinese-American territory prior to Colonel Forrest’s report with the movement taking place afterwards.”

Now Max was the one interrupting, “Wait.  What do you mean ‘population?’  Are you saying you’ve tracked the movements every living person in the territory since the occupation?”

“Yes, sir, I have to the best of my ability.  The task was quite monumental in its undertaking.  My original estimates for completion were over fourteen hours.  I applied a set of algorithms …”

“We get the point, Hal,” said Max, “What did you find?”

“Yes, sir, as you know, there are currently ninety-three labor camps holding just under a million prisoners.  The Chinese utilize the prisoners to carry out various labor-intensive tasks.  On any given day, between twenty-two and fifty-three percent of the prison population are taken from the camps to perform labor.  However, for reasons unknown, on some days that figure is as low as three percent.”

“Hal, I don’t like ‘for reasons unknown,’ at least give us a guess,” said the president.

“Yes, Mr. President.  Likely scenarios could be security related, to perform a census in order to locate particular prisoners for interrogation.  Another possibility would be for health concerns, to stop the spread of disease.”

“Thank you, Hal, continue,” said the president.

“You are welcome, Mr. President.  Gentlemen, the one factor that has not changed since the occupation is that days of extremely low prisoner movement have never exceeded a twenty-four hour period.  Normal operations have always proceeded at sunrise of the following day.”

General Dupree, the ever-vigilant tactician, was the first to figure it out.  “That changed for the first time after Theo’s report.”

“Yes, General Dupree, you are indeed correct.  When Colonel Forrest sent his report, prisoner movement at the labor camps was already down to one percent.  This occurred yesterday.  Today, prisoner movement has remained at one percent.”

The president took a deep breath.  “Hal, are you saying the mass extermination has already begun?”

“Mr. President, I do not believe that to be correct.  The labor camps have remained secured, both inside and out, for thirty-seven hours.  I have not observed a large military presence at the labor camps to carry out executions on a large scale.  Such an undertaking would also require the disposal of corpses, which I have not yet seen.”

“Thank god for that,” said Richard.

“Gentlemen, I am afraid that is only half of my report.  In regards to the rest of the American population in Chinese territory, I have also noted a radical change in movement patterns.  When the labor camps were secured, the scattered communities of Americans were also restricted in their movement.”

“How is that significant?” asked Richard, “It’s not like they’re allowed to move around that much in the first place.”

“That is correct, General, however, the Chinese military are not allowing Americans to leave their homes for any reason.  Examples were quickly made of those not wishing to comply with the mandate.  In less than twelve hours, every American community has shown little to no movement.  It is evident that the Chinese are preparing for something on a large scale.  Colonel Forrest’s report would appear to be valid.  Gentlemen, that concludes my report.”

“Simon Sterling strikes again.”

Max and Richard exchanged puzzled glances.  Richard broke the silence.  “Mr. President?”

“The piece of shit that assassinated President Powers and wiped his ass with the Constitution?  One of the first things he did when founded the Unified American Empire was to confiscate every firearm from every civilian.  If our brothers and sisters on the other side of the Mississippi had the means to resist, the outcome of this war would be entirely different.  Hal, what about colonization?  Have the Chinese started moving their citizens?”

“Mr. President, I do not have adequate satellite coverage of the Asian continent to make such a determination.  I could reassign the satellite network, however, it would impair my ability to monitor either the North American continent or the Empire of Iran’s conquest of Europe.”

“No desire to do that, Hal.  Don’t change a thing.”

“Of course, sir.”

Marshall turned to Richard.  “General, please tell me you have something that resembles a plan.”

“Mr. President, the plan is already in motion.  Our plan to retake the Panama Canal can be adapted to secure the Mississippi.  If we can disable their defenses along the river we can finally come over the Rockies and bring the fight to their front door.  Worst-case scenario, we fail to secure the river but it would still delay their plans for mass extermination, basically just buy us more time.  If we succeed and secure the river, we keep pushing east and liberate our people along the way.  It’s just crazy enough to work.  They won’t know what hit ‘em.  Hal, what do you think?”

“General, the odds of success are dramatically lower compared to Operation Miraflores.  I do concur, however, that any such operation focused on the Mississippi River will serve as a distraction to their plans of mass extermination.  If the president authorizes such a plan, the plan will need to be executed in the next eighteen hours, prior to sunrise on the East Coast.”

“Mr. President?” said Richard.

“I’m not convinced just yet, Max, you’ve been quiet, what do you think?”

“Mr. President, I realize the need for immediate action is present, millions of lives depend on it.  I just can’t stop thinking about the bigger picture.  Why such a bold move?  The Chinese are so desperate to colonize the East Coast that they are willing to join the ranks of the Third Reich with their own American Holocaust?  What are they going through that is so bad that would make them do such a thing?  They’ve got us trapped on our side of the Rockies, powerless to fight them.  Why provoke us?  They know that slaughtering Americans by the millions would elicit a swift response from us.  I just can’t figure out why and it’s bothering me.”

The president paused and contemplated Max’s words.  “I agree.  Whatever the reason, we still have to do everything in our power to stop them.  I’m sure their motives will be made clear soon enough.  We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.  Maxwell, I need you in the here and now.  What do you think?”

“Richard knows what he’s doing, I trust him.”

Marshall stood and paced back and forth, deep in thought.  “General, you have my authorization to carry out this operation.  You and Hal iron out the details and have it to me it ninety minutes.  Make it a good one, General, win or lose, the Battle of the Mississippi is going to end the war.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Eighty-two minutes later General Richard Dupree was back in the command center with the president and vice-president.  Richard did not take his seat and paced around the room as he spoke.

“Mr. President, I want to stress to both of you that we are gambling our entire military force on this operation.  Everything we have, right down to the last bullet will be used to stop the enemy.  Even then it might not be enough, but we have to try.  Far too many lives are at stake for us to be conservative in our efforts.”  Richard paused, realizing that his anger was interfering with his duties.  He composed himself and continued.  “For the last six months, we’ve been in a stalemate.  The Chinese have planted roots along the Mississippi, digging in deep and fortifying their lines.  We’ve been licking our wounds and barely holding the line at the Rockies, just praying the Chinese won’t realize how vulnerable we truly are.  For the time being, they don’t seem to have any interest in engaging us and we don’t have the means to bring the fight to them without being slaughtered.  They have the luxury of eight hundred miles of wide open space to see us coming and they know it.”

The president smiled.  “That’s where Operation Miraflores comes in.”