Sic Semper Tyrannis (14 page)

Po Sin would never forgive his old friend for leaving him behind.  It had been
his
plan, after all.  If anyone, it was
him
who should be sitting behind the desk that Shin Ho now occupied.

“Would
we?
” said Shin Ho softly.

Po Sin rolled his eyes and sighed.  “I don’t have time for this, Mr. Undersecretary.  I’ve got to get the updated recommendations to—don’t look at me like that.”    He sighed again.  “Very well…Would we
what?
”  He lit an Arktika—his favorite Russian cigarette—and inhaled deeply, letting the unfiltered nicotine do its work and sooth his throbbing nerves.  He exhaled the plume of pale smoke and marveled at how much flavor the Russians imparted into their cigarettes compared to the Americans.

“Would we give up?  Or would we order our people to resist to their dying breathes?”

Po Sin laughed around his cigarette and clapped his hands.  “Oh, yes, we would crack the whip and order our people to throw themselves at our enemy.  And why not?  We have plenty to spare.  But these Americans,” he said, taking a deep drag, “They do this
willingly
, in some perverse idea that they are defending their country.  Their own government doesn’t lift a finger…it’s madness, sheer madness.”

“That is what makes me nervous, old friend.”

Po Sin examined the glowing tip of the cigarette in his hand, then shifted his gaze through the light haze of smoke towards the Undersecretary.  “They are
rabble
, Shin Ho.  They lack coordination—” he waved his left hand.  “
Aiya!
They live in the woods like Robin Hood for goodness sake!”

“A fairy tale?”

“Yes!” hissed Po Sin.  “Something to be dismissed and forgotten as one matures into adulthood.”  He leveled his sternest glare at his waffling friend.

Shin Ho picked up a report and scanned it with his hooded, sleepy-looking eyes.  “This is the latest report from the commander in Arizona.  It seems we have lost a total of 124 men, enough supplies and weapons to outfit an entire infantry company and two scout vehicles.”  He looked up.  “I would not call that a fairy tale.”

Po Sin leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead with his left hand while the cigarette dangled from his right arm.  He closed his eyes.  “This is getting us nowhere.  Just tell me what the Supreme Leader wants.”

“He wants a swift victory.”

“I know that.”  Po Sin needed another drag to keep his temper in check.  He exhaled and watched the smoke swirl in the office air. 
There, that’s better.
  He continued: “I mean, I want to know what he expects of
me?
  Initiative or by-the-book?”

Shin Ho stared at him with a gaze that suggested nothing and gave away nothing.  The man was impossible to read.  It was as if he were in a staring contest with his wife’s cat.

At last Po Sin leaned forward and snubbed out his cigarette in the pristine ashtray on Shin Ho’s polished desk.  “Here is the situation.  We can do one of two things, the way I see it.  One,” he held up his left hand.   “We continue the push on to California, ignore the losses we’re taking and leave these cowboys in our rear—hoping they don’t do too much damage to our supply train...or raise an army behind us.”

He held up his right hand.  “Or two, we split our forces.  One half—the bigger half—proceeds as planned toward Tucson and on into California.  The other half focuses on rooting out these barbarians and killing them all.”

Shin Ho leaned back in his executive chair and clasped his hands over his paunch.  He pursed his lower lip and blinked, looking for all the world like a confused koi.  At length, he spoke: “This second force you speak of—what are the plans to, as you say, root out these troublemakers—these…what do they call themselves?”  He leaned forward and glanced at the report.  “Ah.  Regulators.”

Po Sin grinned.  “That’s the best part—we’ll let the local civilians flush them out for us.  We’ve already started, in fact.  I had the area commander assault a small town near where we think these cowboys are operating.  Burned it to the ground, made a show of killing the adult males and older boys.  We demand knowledge of these Regulators in return for leniency.  It has worked in the past.  In the end, the locals will sell out these freedom fighters for a chance at peace.  Look how it worked in Cambodia.”

“I don't know,” muttered Shin Ho.  “Cambodians and Americans are two different creatures.”

“True enough,” replied Po Sin.  “Perhaps it will just take a little longer, cost a few more soldiers.”  He waved a hand in dismissal.  “In the end, it’s simply human nature.  You’ll see.”

Shin Ho raised his eyebrows and sat up.  “All right, all right.  I’ll agree to your plan and sign off on it.  Anything to stop these losses.  Just make sure that the attacking force heading for California maintains the timetable, eh?”  He shuffled some papers on his desk, found the appropriate order and signed it with a flourish.  “Take this and be gone.  I will smooth things over with the Supreme Leader.”

“You won’t regret this, old friend.”

Shin Ho looked at him oddly.  It wasn’t anger, or even jealousy—after all, he was merely signing off on the plan.  The real genius behind the whole operation had been Po Sin—and everyone knew it, even the Supreme Leader.  What was it about his friend’s look that he found so unsettling then?  Po Sin tamped down a flicker of unease that struggled to life in the dark corners of his mind.  He was putting everything—his reputation, his career, perhaps even his life—on the line for this invasion…

“See that I don’t,
friend,
” said Shin Ho.

ROB STARED AT THE men coming through the main entrance to the Regulator compound.  He glanced at the guards on either side of the heavy timber gate.  The two locals looked decidedly uneasy.

He stepped up and met them with as warm a smile as he could muster, trying to put the memories of the last meeting with locals in the back of his mind.  He blocked the memory of that hysterical woman screaming that it had been the Regulator’s fault the Chinese had wiped out Pine Bluff.  The crib…

Rob forced himself to focus on his visitors.  The man on the left looked surly.  He was covered in sweat and grime and appeared to have dearly missed his normal sleep for a few days.  His companion looked to be suffering a similar state of personal hygiene, but at least had the decency to come across as polite.

It was to the man on the right that Rob spoke to first.   “Welcome to our little…outpost,” he said looking around.  “I guess that word describes it best.”

The man on the left spoke first.  “My name’s Milton Birch.”  He glared at the gathering onlookers, as if defying them to challenge him.  “So this is the great secret hideout of the Regulators.  You boys done a lotta damage down below, you know that?  Lotta people dead because of you—”

“Ah, what my friend here his trying to say,” said the man on the right with a calming hand on Birch’s arm.  “Is that we’ve been sent by the good folks of what is left of Pine Bluff to try and talk you all into surrendering to the—”

“The hell we will!” said George Franks.  His brother, Ed, never far from George’s side, spat on the ground as his answer.

“We lost our homes because of the Chinese, too,” Lance said in a quiet voice.

“Well I lost my
family
.  Them Chinks kill
yours
for what you been doin’ up here in the woods, playin’ at Rambo?  Did they?” said Birch through clenched teeth.  The chords in his neck were taut and the man looked ready to attack Lance.  His eyes filled with moisture and he suddenly looked away, sniffing hard and scrubbing at his face.

“Look, Milt and I aren’t here to lay blame at anyone’s feet,” said the man on the right, his hands spread wide.  “We’re here to ask.”  He glanced at his partner.   “Nicely.”

Rob hooked his thumbs behind his belt buckle and rocked back a bit on his heels.  He was fighting the wave of disgust that was rising in his stomach.  The very sight of these two quislings made him want to break something.

“Well,” said the second man, looking around with darting eyes.  Rob could see beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead.  “At least shut down your little…ah, operation, here, and move on…that’s all we ask.  We just want you to leave.”

Rob shot a glance at Lance.  “I checked ‘em myself.  No wiretaps.”

“There,” said Birch as he pointed at Lance.  “You see?  We come in peace, in all sincerity to ask you—”

“What you ask is for us to get down on our knees and wait for the Red Chinese to come up this mountain and slit our throats,” said Rob.

“Damn straight!” shouted George Franks.  Lance turned and waved him off.

“No, sir, no one’s suggesting that—”

“What you ask,” Rob said again, in a low, quiet voice, “is that we
surrender
.  You want us to give up and just hand ourselves over to the invading army from China.”  Rob raised his eyebrow.  “You want us to quit and lead ourselves to the slaughter, be good little quislings like you and hope and pray our new masters don’t slaughter the rest of you out of spite.”

The man’s face reddened.  “Now look, I never—”

Rob plowed ahead, talking right over the indignant local.  “You want us to take all the sacrifices, the blood lost, the lives cut short—not only by my men, but by every man and woman who’s ever worn the uniform of these United States going back to the mother-loving Revolution itself—you want us to piss on their graves, burn the flag, give Lady Liberty the finger, and wait to die as
slaves
.  That’s about the gist of it, right…
friend?
”

“You’re putting words into—”

“Shut your fucking mouth right now before I shoot you myself, you goddamn coward,” growled Rob.  He took two long strides forward and pressed his face into the local’s.  The man shrank back and seemed to physically grow smaller beneath Rob’s barely contained fury.  “You people down there, in Pine Bluff, you’ve suffered.  Ain’t no one gonna tell you otherwise around here.  We’ve seen what those slant-eyed bastards did, and let me tell you, it makes me sick to my stomach to think that they’re trying to use you against us.”

“That’s right, you talk the big talk, Mister,” said Birch.  “I don’t think you had to watch your family burnt alive in your own home, did you?”

Rob turned to look at the shorter man.  “No, thank God, I didn’t.  But I wouldn’t blame the only Americans for a thousand miles that are trying to
stop
the sonsabitches, either,” retorted Rob with equal vehemence.

Birch opened his mouth to answer, paused, looked like a fish out of water for a moment and shut it again.  He glared at the floor and said nothing.  Rob turned back to the other local.

“What’s your name?”

“Roger.  Roger Hallwood.”

“You sound like a reasonable man, Roger,” said Rob.  He took a step back and held his breath a moment too long in order to get control of his anger.  He was on thin ice.  The locals could choose to sell out the Regulators at any time.  And Rob didn’t figure they’d last long in an all-out siege.  No, he had to sweet talk these men into giving them time to prove the worth of the Cause.  He had to win them back to the right side of the issue.

Hallwood puffed his chest slightly.  “I like to think I am.  Most folks agree.”

“Then reason with me,” Rob said.  He held his hand out, gesturing that the two take a walk.  “I think better outside.  I’ve always felt cooped up in a building.”

Hallwood nodded and after a reassuring look toward Birch, he followed Rob outside.

“There, that’s better,” said Rob, closing his eyes in the dappled sunlight trickling through the alpine canopy.  He took a deep breath and savored the smells of fresh cut pines, the stale mountain soil, and the nearby campfires where Regulator families were beginning to prepare suppers.  “This land is America—”

“No one’s denying that, no sir.”

Rob nodded.  “And this country has been invaded exactly one time—other than now.  Do you know why no one besides Britain has ever tried in the last two hundred years or so?”

“Because we are—well, we
were
—the most power nation on the planet,” replied Hallwood.

“Yes,” said Rob with a look of appreciation for his guest.  “Because the world was afraid of what they’d find should they
try
and invade.  Have you heard about the hell breaking loose back east?”

Hallwood shook his head.  “We’d heard a little bit before the town lost power completely—something about the United Nations sending peacekeepers to the big cities…and fighting in Chicago.  Real fighting.  With tanks.”

Rob led Hallwood over towards one of the redoubts, a little downslope from the main HQ.  “Yup.  The rebels, this Brotherhood, they pretty much own the cities now—with the help of their European friends.  They’re spreading out—like a virus.  You know what else is going on though?  We got a decent HAM setup here, so we’ve been hearing the news—word is, there’s people all over the country rising up to stop the U.N. jackboots.”

Hallwood said nothing.

“They knocked us down, almost out.  I’ll give ‘em that.  But we’re
Americans
.  We don’t give up.  Not easily, not ever.  But that’s not what the world sees—thanks to Hollywood and the liberals that have been running this country into the toilet for decades now—the world see Americans as weak, ignorant, pathetic, whining, and lazy.  They think we’ll just roll over and say ‘Thank you sir, may I have another?’.  That’s not the America I know.  The America I know is still tough as iron and twice as stubborn.  I know deep down, you feel the same way.  I can see it in your eyes.”  Rob stopped at the redoubt and crossed his arms, taking in the wide vista.