Conquistadors!, page 34
“Yes, sir.”
Felix watched the general go, then reached for the phone. He hadn’t had anywhere near enough time to lay the groundwork properly – and the fact that some politicians were clearly pushing for peace at any price worried him – but he’d have to gamble. If they could ram through a hasty impeachment – a very big if – they could remove the President, hopefully before the Protectorate attacked Washington. Or ...
They’re going to be occupying an airbase, in terrain we know very well, he thought, feeling a dull flicker of hope. This time, we can go on the offensive.
***
“The President agreed to your terms?” Sally sounded mildly surprised, then embarrassed. “Of course, I knew he would, but ...”
James understood. President Hamlin was a weak man. No two explanations of how he’d gotten the job were alike, but it was clear – just by watching his broadcasts – that he didn’t have the spine to lead a country into war, no matter what the provocation. It was just absurd to think that a continent-spanning hyperpower would let itself be intimidated by a tiny little country of religious fanatics, just because they signed a few worthless pieces of paper. The Protectorate would have taught Iran a lesson the very first time it caused trouble. If they wanted to act like primals, they could die like primals.
He allowed himself a smile as the transports flew towards their destination, Joint Base Andrews. The demand had been intended, at least in part, to push the President into making more concessions ... he was surprised, and suspicious, at just how quickly Hamlin had given in. The wretched man had no military service, according to his biography, and that probably accounted for the foolishness, but surely he had a few military officers around him. James had sent sensor teams ahead, just to make sure the airbase hadn’t been rigged to explode, just in case he’d underestimated his adversary. The airbase was large enough to hide a backpack nuke easily.
He’d have needed precognition to know I was going to make that demand in advance, he told himself. There wasn’t anything like enough time to prepare a nasty surprise.
His heart leapt as they landed, neatly, on the airbase. He was winning. The President was prepared to meet with him. Such a weak man could be relied upon to give up everything, in exchange for a handful of weak promises that would be kept only as long as it suited him. James needed land to trade for influence, a working population that could be trained to modern standards ... he allowed his good humour to show as he contemplated the possibilities. Who knew how far he could take the campaign?
“No surprises, sir,” the security officer said. “The base appears to have been carefully evacuated and stripped of everything useful, save for the fuel storage cells. The outside district is evacuating now.”
James was almost disappointed. “Nothing at all?”
“No, sir,” the officer said. “Just some rude graffiti and a great many pornographic magazines, left where our men will be certain to find them.”
“Charming,” James said. If that was all the enemy could muster ... he kept his face under tight control as he considered the possibilities. Was it a deliberate attempt to corrupt his men? Or was it a warning that not everyone was happy following orders? The men who left the graffiti behind might already be considering further resistance, no matter what the President said. Who could blame them? “Take possession of the gates, then secure the outer reaches.”
“Aye, sir,” the officer said.
James nodded as the man hurried away. It was a shame he’d had to bring Ruddigore with him, as well as others, but the man couldn’t be trusted to be left alone. He could secure the perimeter while James had his meeting with the President, then grind his teeth helplessly as James returned in triumph. Who knew? Maybe Ruddigore would learn a lesson and stay in his place.
“Sir!”
James swung around. A communications tech was shouting ...
“You were taught to report calmly,” James said, coldly. If it was an incoming attack, the outer defences would handle it. There was no need for panic. “What has happened?”
“Sir, the reinforcements have arrived,” the tech reported. “They’re ... they’re not near Flint.”
James blinked, then hastily hid his surprise. The reinforcements were two days early ... the timeline hadn’t been that precise, not when powering up the Crosstime Transpositioner was a difficult task, but it was still interesting. And worrying, And if they hadn’t arrived where he needed them, within his bailiwick ...
He took a breath. If they were outside his sphere of influence, matters were about to get very hairy indeed. “Where are they?”
“Saudi Arabia.”
Chapter Thirty-Five: Washington DC, North America, Timeline F (OTL)
“There’s more of them?”
“Yes, sir,” Colin said. “We picked up the energy flux two hours ago.”
He did his best to remain calm as he spoke to the table, not daring to look any of the political and military leaders in the face. “Communications were disrupted, again, but the hardened links between various military and intelligence bases and the mainland largely survived. The invaders appeared on the edge of Riyadh and, according to our bases, seized control of the city very quickly. Resistance was minimal. The majority of the Saudi military is deployed along the borders and was hopelessly out of position – and remains so, as far as we can tell.”
The President took a breath. “What happened to the King? The Saudi Government?”
“The King is out of contact, according to the latest update,” Colin said. “It isn’t clear if he was captured, killed in the fighting, or vanished somewhere in the chaos. There’s no clear line of succession within the government or military edifice, so we have several different officers claiming supreme power ... two of whom went off the air very quickly, after they started to broadcast. The preliminary assessment suggests that whatever remains of the government will fragment very quickly, now that Riyadh is under enemy control. There are already reports of uprisings amongst the Shia and guest workers in various cities.”
“I see,” the Vice President said, coolly. “Can the Saudis rally and throw the invaders out of their country?”
“I doubt it, sir,” Colin said. “Their military is well-equipped, at least on paper, but there’s always been a question mark over how they’ll perform in modern combat. Some units are very good, if not up to our standards; others are little more than job-creation programs for the kingdom’s young men. They were always concerned about the loyalty of their military, not without reason, and the steps they took to coup-proof the state will make it hard for any officer, no matter how senior, to get organised before it is too late. Civilian resistance is a possibility, but the invaders won’t hesitate to crush it with overwhelming force.”
He paused. “I think we have to assume the invaders will take control of the kingdom very quickly, if they haven’t already, and then strike north or east.”
It wasn’t a pleasant thought. He wouldn’t spare any pity for Saudi Arabia or Iran – or much of the Middle East – but the global economy, already badly weakened, was about to lose access to the Saudi oil wells. Worse, perhaps; the lack of organised resistance would give the invaders all the time they needed to establish themselves, crafting an invulnerable position that would serve as a base for attacking the rest of the world. And, worst of all, the fact they’d appeared right next to the capital city suggested their arrival was deliberately planned. The only upside was that it was proof that the theories about a chunk of Flint being rotated into the invader timeline were correct.
Unless they really do have a way of sending messages across the dimensions, he thought. The scientists were still in deep denial about interdimensional travel being possible, but ... the proof was right in front of them. If they can call home, they could target their next incursion on a vulnerable spot ...
His mind raced. It made a certain kind of sense, and yet ... wouldn’t it be wiser to send the reinforcements to the United States? The theories about open gates between worlds seemed to be inaccurate, unless – for some reason – the invaders were deliberately holding back and not launching an endless tidal wave of heavy armour through the gates. Surely, the first invasion force would need reinforcements, particularly if their homeworld knew they’d likely encounter stiff resistance. Did they fear the first wave might have been wiped out? Or did they think they needed to put more pressure on the remainder of the world? Or ... or what?
“Thank you,” the Vice President said. “Please wait in the sideroom.”
Colin tried not to take it personally as he stood and left the room. He wasn’t quite a wallflower – everyone who was anyone in Washington was orbited by a collection of wallflowers; junior officers, politicians, advisors and interns – but he wasn’t cleared for high-level discussions and he knew it. His mind was elsewhere, anyway; he found a seat, pulled his notepad from his pocket and started to scribble down a list of possible observations. He had no idea where Boone had gone, but ... they needed to know what might have been rotated into the invader timeline. If they’d got their hands on a library, they might have a very good idea of what their invasion force had encountered ...
And now they know where to target their reinforcements, Colin thought, grimly. This isn’t going to end well.
***
James would have freely shown his shock and dismay, if he hadn’t known it would be disastrous. He’d hoped there’d be a few more days before the reinforcements arrived – there would have been, if they’d stuck with the original timeline – and if the new troops had arrived within his sphere of influence he could have cited seniority and the ongoing war to keep the new Captain-General in his place. Or ... his plan hadn’t quite failed, but it had suddenly become a great deal harder to pull off. The newcomers had arrived on the other side of the world.
And if their commander has a chance to take territory for himself, he’ll see himself as my equal, James thought. His dreams of supreme power were fading rapidly. The Middle East had been assessed as a second-order target, a place incapable of defending itself; he’d intended, vaguely, to deal with any state that refused to bend the knee after the Americans were defeated. He’ll sweep across the desert, destroying anything in his path, and secure vast tracts of land before I can complete the conquest of America.
He briefly – very briefly – considered giving up, then rejected the idea out of hand. He’d gone too far. He needed to succeed, or the Council would throw the book at him once they realised what he’d done. Victory would excuse everything, but defeat ...? His ambition refused to accept even the slightest prospect of defeat, even though the balance of power had shifted rapidly. Ruddigore was already questioning him. How many of his captains were entertaining similar thoughts?
I need to go there, he thought. Going in person was risky, but it was the only hope of asserting his authority. If he overawed the new arrivals, he could call on their resources to win the war in North America ... hell, if they’d brought additional transports, they’d be able to shift more armoured regiments to the US. But who can I leave in command here?
He cursed under his breath. Ruddigore was technically the next in line to command the new outpost, but putting him in charge was asking for trouble. Who knew what he’d do? The other captains were either junior to him, which would cause all sorts of problems, or they were needed elsewhere. Bringing them east would be risky too ... he cursed again, silently conceding that Ruddigore had had a point. They controlled vast swathes of land, now and forever, but they didn’t have the manpower to make best use of it. Or even to patrol it. The border was so porous it might as well not exist.
“Signal the castle,” he ordered. “General Essex is to bring the intercontinental flyer east, then remain in command here while I go to meet the new arrivals.”
“Aye, sir.”
James sighed inwardly. Essex was his second-in-command. Technically, he could take command of the outpost while James went east without putting any noses out of joint. He could be relied upon to keep Ruddigore from doing anything stupid ... James hoped. Essex had very limited command experience and would be reluctant to do anything that would jeopardize his chances of success in this opportunity. If Ruddigore proposed a full-scale retreat ...
He raised his eyes to the display. The enemy had evacuated the region, moving all the civilians well clear of the airbase, but they had enough firepower between Andrews and Washington to give him a very hard time. He’d intimidated the President into meeting with them, into a position of weakness, yet ... would that change? The Americans had to know a second invasion force had arrived. Would it stiffen their spines, or would they be more inclined to make a deal? James had no doubt of victory, if the war continued, but the cost would steadily mount until his forces were gravely weakened. He might win the war, yet lose all chance of rising to the very top.
“Sir, the General is on his way,” his aide said. “He’ll be here shortly.”
“Good,” James said. “Have him report to me when he arrives.”
He turned away, mentally running through the possibilities. An hour for Essex to arrive and be briefed, five hours to get to the Middle East, another hour to talk the new arrivals into following his orders and then five hours to get back to Washington, just in time for the talks with the President ... he doubted there would be anything like enough time for Ruddigore to convince a quorum of captains to move against him. Or appeal to the new Captain-General. It was going to be tight – he dared not show any weakness to the Americans, not now – but it would have to be done. The only other option was accepting that his ambitions would never be realised ...
... And that was the one thing he could never do.
***
Felix tried not to grind his teeth in frustration as he hurried through the network of underground tunnels connecting the government facilities in Washington, allowing politicians and officers to move from place to place without being noticed. They’d always assumed the invaders would get reinforcements, sooner or later, but ... they’d expected the reinforcements to arrive within the US. That would have been bad, yet invading Saudi Arabia was worse. The global economy was about to tank, every American military asset within the region was living on borrowed time, and every last nation now knew they could be invaded too, unless they came to terms with the Protectorate. What next? An enemy fortress in Moscow? Or London? Or Beijing? Or ...
They could appear anywhere, he thought, coldly. And there’s no way we can prepare for it.
He cursed, under his breath. The President was still hell-bent on talking to the invaders. The man had been broken before, after New York, and now ... Felix understood how it felt, to be knocked down time and time again, but surrender would be the end. The United States was not going to go down so easily, not after it had endured so many challenges over the years. There were so many things they could do ...
His mind raced. They’d set up alternate command and control facilities to ensure the invaders couldn’t shatter the defenders into hundreds of isolated units, which could be wiped out one by one. They’d brought in newer and better weaponry, as well as thousands of troops; they’d taken steps to prepare to attack the airbase, to catch an enemy detachment – isolated from the remainder of their force – and wipe it out. And yet, the President had already given up. It could not be allowed.
The thought tormented him as the tunnel network led him to a semi-secret Senatorial facility on the other side of the city. He hadn’t dared speak openly over the telephone lines – it was impossible to be sure the line hadn’t been tapped – but he’d done enough pre-planning to ensure a seemingly innocuous message would be enough to get his supporters to assemble in one room. They were a mixed group ... his lips twitched in dark amusement as he stepped into the room. The campaign to hastily remove the President from office was a bipartisan effort. Ironically, it was the first bipartisan effort of the Hamlin Presidency.
And we really are going out on a limb here, he thought. In theory, the President could be removed on the grounds he was unable or unwilling to carry out his duties, but in practice ... the legalities had never been clearly established. He’d had his staff look up the precedents, such as they were, and they simply weren’t very clear. If the President tries to resist his removal ...
“I won’t mince words,” he said. “A second invasion force has arrived” – they already knew it, or they weren’t the men he thought they were – “and the first invasion force, thanks to the President, is now bare miles from Washington. We need to invoke the 25th Amendment now, and to hell with the legalities.”
The words hung in the air. Felix kept his face under tight control. There was no way to know just what would happen, the moment the balloon went up. The confusion would be disastrous if the President refused to leave or the politicians resisted. Who would be commander-in-chief? Who would hold the nuclear football ... and handle everything else the President, and only the President, could do? Normally, there’d be plenty of time to sort it out, but now, with an enemy force only a few miles away ... they didn’t have time. They’d go down in history as heroes, villains, or both.
“There is no more time,” Felix added. He let his gaze move from face to face. “We have to act now.”
***
Senator Thaddeus Remington cursed the day he’d ever travelled to the Middle East, the day he’d listened to his assistant – who, he’d learnt later, had been carefully assigned to him by the host government – and the day he’d let himself succumb to temptation. His upbringing had been one of shameless luxury and unbelievable privilege, in which there were no consequences for anything from minor pranks to outright criminality. His father had been able to pay off everyone the young Thaddeus had offended, from the maid who was raising his bastard son to the dean of the very expensive college he’d attended, after a little joke had nearly killed three other students. Thaddeus had been so spoilt, he admitted privately, that he’d rapidly lost interest in drink, drugs, and nearly everything else that was legal or semi-legal. It really was astonishing what you could get away with, if you had enough money ...
