President Sims shook his head. “If I were them, I would land in LA, make certain of taking it.”
“LA is a possibility,” General Alan conceded. “San Francisco seems more likely, given that the Chinese would like to stretch our forces to the breaking point.”
“No,” the President said. “If we lose LA now, it’s over. We have to use everything in Central California. Send the Behemoths to Palm Springs.”
“They might not make it in time,” General Alan said.
“Send them,” the President said gruffly.
General Alan nodded.
President Sims stared at a wall. He soon asked, “What’s happening in Texas?”
The meeting now moved to the additional fronts.
As others talked, Anna tapped her computer scroll and studied the SoCal situation. Despite the commando gamble, the great Chinese surprise had worked. What would have happened if they hadn’t learned about the Blue Swan missiles or not done anything to blunt the blow? Likely, the enemy attack would have been even more successful and she would be sitting in on a complete catastrophe. Would the central reserve armor slow the Chinese Tank Army? Could the SoCal formations break out of the trap? Maybe if the Americans fought in a superhuman fashion… Unfortunately, it was starting to appear as if someone on the other side knew exactly what to do to gain a supreme victory.
Stan Higgins was nervous and sweaty. Grunts were loading the Behemoths onto tank carriers and the carriers would be ready to roll in another hour or so. He didn’t have much time left.
Stan was in the Detention Reception Center in Fresno. The city was in the middle of the Central Valley, a dusty place with myriad irrigation canals feeding peach and almond orchards and mile after mile of wheat fields.
He had spoken to a government coordinator and now waited in a special cubicle with a computer screen. He could hear others in nearby cubicles speaking to relatives in the Central Detention Center in Colorado. These cubicles were the only way to communicate with someone in a Detention Center. The government, he knew, kept careful records of who spoke to detainees and how often they did it. Too much, and it went against your political profile.
The screen came to life and an officious, thick-lipped woman with a mole on her nose regarded him. She wore a tan uniform of a Detention warrant officer and a tan, military-style hat with a red band.
She glanced at something off screen by her hands, his profile, no doubt. “You’re Captain Stan Higgins?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Stan said.
“Hmm. You’re in the Army?”
“That is correct.”
“What is the nature of your call, Captain Higgins?”
He’d already told a Detention official here in Fresno why he was calling. He’d had to fill out several request forms to get this far. The warrant officer he was talking to must know that. Instead of saying any of that, Stan pasted the best smile he could on his face.
“I’d like to speak with my son, Jake Higgins.”
“Hmm,” she said, studying something. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. Your son is presently in solitary confinement. He has three more hours to serve on a five-day offense.”
“What?” Stan asked.
The warrant officer frowned. “I’m not sure I like your tone, Captain Higgins. According to this,” she said, tapping a computer scroll, “you’re in the active military. Ah, I see you won the Medal of Honor in 2032, ah, in Alaska. You’ll understand then what it means to follow orders.”
“No,” Stan said. “I received my medal for disobeying orders and doing what needed doing to beat the Chinese.”
The warrant officer’s frown hardened, and there was a gleam now in her dark eyes.
Stan knew he’d made a mistake. “Look. I’d just like to say a few words to my son before I go off to face the Chinese.”
“You’re in California?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Near the front?” she asked.
“Not yet, but I’ll be there in a day at the latest.”
“You realize that I cannot let your son out of solitary.”
“Can I ask you what he did?”
“He assaulted a guard,” the woman said.
“Jake did?” Stan asked, horrified to hear this. That was just like Jake’s grandfather. “Did my son have a reason for the assault?”
“There is no good reason, Captain.”
“No, I’m sure there isn’t,” Stan said. He needed another angle with the woman. “You know,” he said, “The Chinese are attacking viciously. According to what I’m hearing, they mean to take the state in what looks like one fell swoop. I might die in the coming fight. I would really appreciate it if you would somehow see it in you to let me speak to my son before that happens.”
“I’m sorry, no. He’s in solitary confinement as I told you and I’m not authorized to break the rules. Despite your earlier statement about disregarding rules, we here in the Detention Center know how to achieve our tasks while coordinating with our superiors.”
“I’m not condoning my son’s actions. I would just dearly like to speak to him one more time. Maybe…maybe I could help straighten him out.”
“I think you already had your chance, Captain, when your son lived with you for over twenty years.”
Stan turned away, biting his lip. Couldn’t they let him talk to his son? Jake only had three more hours to serve in solitary. What was wrong with these people? “Look,” he said, facing the screen. “Do you have any children?”
“I have a daughter, as a matter of fact. But I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
“What if she was in a Detention Center and you had to go fight the Chinese.”
“My daughter would never be sent to a Detention Center,” the warrant officer said in brittle tone.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Stan said. “How about if the government had made a mistake in putting her there?”
The warrant officer’s features tightened. She leaned closer into the screen. She had terrible skin and visible pours near her nose. “Are you suggesting the government made a mistake with your son?”
“No, of course not,” Stan said. And then, his words just stopped. For a second, he wanted to lift the screen and smash it against the floor. He wanted to slug the woman—the warrant officer—in the face. He could hardly blame Jake for striking a guard if this is what they were like. Maybe he should be proud of his son for standing up for freedom. What was wrong with protesting anyway?
“You know, lady, I’m laying my life on the line for my country and for my family. In a way, I’m putting my body in harm’s way for you and your daughter. And you can’t even let me speak to my son for what might be the last time. That’s un-American to me, just flat-out wrong.”
“Would you like me to record your statement?” the woman asked.
“Yeah,” Stan said, “go ahead and record it. Put it down. I said it and I meant it.”
They stared at each other with growing hostility.
“Good-day, Captain Higgins,” she said.
“I want to speak to your superior.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
“What’s wrong? Are you afraid now?”
She stared at him. Then she glanced to the side. “My superior happens to be right here. Are you sure you’d like to speak to him, Captain?”
“Absolutely,” Stan said.
The woman rose and stepped out of sight. There was muffled talk and a few moments later, a thin man sat
