The president stood from the desk and looked at his assembled cabinet in turn. “You’re telling me that the world, essentially, is lining up against us on this one? Even after the announcement that we took out Renolds?”
Secretary of State Strettall tugged at his collar and rubbed his face. “Not exactly, sir.”
The president arched an eyebrow and waited. All eyes in the room turned to Strettall.
“They’re telling us they don’t want to rush into anything. They’re not going to sanction a war—”
“Even if we’re technically just defending ourselves?” asked the president.
“At this point, sir,” the Attorney General spoke up, “they’re probably going to use the truce as proof that we can live with the Occupation until cooler heads prevail. It’s been over six months now…”
“No one has done more to destroy the Council—” began the president.
“Iran in particular is questioning our narrative and demands proof of Ms. Renolds’ demise,” replied the Secretary of State.
“Of course they are,” groused the president. He looked up at his advisors. “Do we have a positive ID yet?”
Chief of Staff Revellue shook his head. “It’s too early to tell, sir. We found several parts of bodies and we have the FBI’s top forensics team working on nailing the ID, but the procedures are going to take time to do it right. We can weather whatever storm the Iranians try to pull on us—we nailed the bitch.”
The president sighed. “I don’t like this business with the boy, though.”
Secretary of Defense Thaler cleared his throat. “No one does, sir, but this is a war for our very survival. This boy’s family is directly responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths in Atlanta. We must be merciless in our pursuit of justice.”
The mere thought of Atlanta sent a shudder of anger through the president. “You’re right, Sam. Thank you…” He looked up at the Secretary of State, Lewis Strettall. “Lewis, stay the course and don’t let the Iranians pull us off target. The Council is all but finished now—keep the focus on North Korea.”
Secretary Strettall nodded. “Of course, Mr. President, but I should warn you, going down this path will lead us closer to a global conflict.” He compressed his mouth and exhaled. “Destroying that chateau and possibly killing that boy just added fuel to the fire for our opponents. Especially Iran.”
The president slammed a hand down on the table. “Bullshit!” He stepped away from the table, willing his heart to slow before it burst through his chest like some sci-fi monster. He closed his eyes, facing the wall, and took a calming breath. “They know we’re going to ignore this little resolution they’re drafting, right?”
“Frankly, sir, I think the big players like the ChiComs are counting on us rejecting it,” said Admiral Bennett. “It’ll give them ammunition to level sanctions against us and solidify their coalitions. Once that happens, all bets are off.”
The president looked at his cabinet. “Recall our ambassadors.”
“What? From where?” asked Secretary Strettall.
“Everywhere,” the president said. “They’re pushing us into an untenable position, gentlemen.” He glanced at the Joint Chiefs. “If we strike fast and knock the Koreans into the Pacific, take back our land, and make this country whole again…can we do it before the rest of the world gets involved?”
Admiral Bennett replied immediately. “Absolutely. For six months we’ve been amassing troops and supplies, recalling our forces from around the world—except for key strategic locations—and preparing. The Navy has effectively blocked the NKors from resupplying. They’re cut off and they know it. We’ll roll ‘em up and won’t stop till we hit the ocean.”
Secretary Strettall cleared his throat. “That’s all well and good, but then what? China will be furious. North Korea might throw a few nukes around the Pacific Rim—”
“No one’s made any clear threats,” the president said. “We have made our intentions clear from Day One. We will take our country back, with or without international help. And once we’re done mopping up, we’re going to teach those troublesome fuckers a lesson the world won’t soon forget. They know we’re coming.”
“That’s the problem, sir,” Strettall continued. “What was it, Sam? How many troops did China move around last week?”
“About half a million,” Samuel Thaler, the Secretary of Defense.
“Half a million…Mr. President, the Chinese know exactly what’s going on and they’re preparing for a full-on war with us. Does anyone know what the Russians are doing?”
Thaler grunted. “Nobody ever really knows what Ivan’s up to. We can guess, but they’re keeping their force movements secret—if they’re doing anything. This isn’t their fight, remember.”
“But they agreed to take the blame for the U.N. vote for China. They’re involved now,” countered Strettall. “This is shaping up to be a global conflict, sir. I can’t stand behind this course of action. I recommend…” he paused, taking stock of the faces in the room. “I realize this won’t be popular, but I have to speak my conscience. We should follow what the U.N.—what the world—is asking us to do.”
“Fuck the United Nations,” snarled the Commandant of the Marine Corps.
“That’s enough,” the president said.
“I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” General Rykker said. He glanced at the Secretary of State. “Well, almost everyone.” He turned to the president. “Sir, I recommend we launch a pre-emptive strike against the NKors when we touch off the Reconquista.”
“So China will get involved that much sooner?” asked Strettall.
“Negative,” the Commandant snapped. “If we level North Korea, China will have its hands full with millions of starving refugees. The military will have to line the borders to keep them out. They’ll be too preoccupied to pay attention to what we’re doing on our own soil.”
The president stared at the Commandant for a long moment. The old man returned a steely, unblinking gaze. Eventually, the president turned away and looked at the large screen behind him, depicting a map of the world.
I need to think on this…it’s time to shift gears.
“What’s the situation in Scotland?”
Papers shuffled, briefcases opened, throats cleared as his cabinet struggled to catch up with the president’s meeting agenda. He’d shelved the Korean problem and opened the Council again.
“We’re still waiting on official statements from Downing Street,” Strettall said, “but other foreign offices are suggesting it’s a terror attack.”
“What do you think over at Langley, Adrian?”
“We’re not sure what we’re seeing,” said Director Stylau. “It’s a confusing picture on the ground. Lots of civilians, bodies in the streets…we saw photographic evidence of a gas cloud…but…” He spread his hands. “All comms are disrupted. We have the local office sending someone to check it out, but whoever did this knows their stuff. We’re essentially blind.”
“Why are the Brits sitting on their thumbs?” asked the president. “Something doesn’t pass the smell test here, people.”
“I can’t get anywhere,” moaned Strettall. “Total stonewall.”
“Maybe the British are softening their long-time alliance with us?” asked the Secretary of Defense.
“What about those assets we spoke of?” the president directed toward Admiral Bennett.
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs smiled. “They’ll be on-scene in less than half an hour, sir.” He opened a folder and pulled out an 8 x 10 glossy photo of a sailor standing in front of the American flag. “We’ve figured out who the security detail is for Senator Tecumseh. You may recognize this man.”
“Isn’t that the SEAL that killed Reginald Tillcott?” asked Director Stylau.
“Negative, he’s the SEAL that let a Council operative kill Tillcott,” Bennett replied in a clipped voice, as if knowing full well the Director was being coy about rubbing that little fact in his face. “But he’s also the one who led the charge that brought down Tillcott and most of the Council with him in the first place.”
“Who is this?” asked Secretary Strettall, leaning over to see the photo.
Admiral Bennett grinned. “Cooper Braaten.” He looked at the president. “We couldn’t hope for a better man to be down there on the ground with Senator Tecumseh. If the senator’s alive, Braaten will keep him breathing come hell or high water. I guarantee it, sir.”