***
The crude map of drawn lines projected on the wall of Gordon’s conference room, which had turned into the Coalition’s war room, was the very best artistic effort of his Chief of Sentries, Dean Grout. And despite that best effort, Dean did little more than what a fifth grader could accomplish on a homework assignment of similar scope.
“They took us by surprise in Wyoming, but their advances have slowed now that they’re pushing into Oklahoma,” Dean said. “However, we’re going to be hard pressed on both sides. We’ve received confirmation that the Navy’s Atlantic fleet has finally made its way into the Gulf.”
“They won’t risk using their ordinance as long as our sentries are intermixed with civilians,” Gordon said. “We’ve got our human shields, let’s use them goddammit!” Gordon accentuated the point with his fist slamming into the table. The only other attendee allowed in the meeting besides Dean and Gordon was Jake. The lack of competence through the rest of the Coalition was too frustrating to deal with.
“That’s what I’ve ordered our men to do,” Dean said, folding his arms together, signaling the end of his less-than-stellar presentation.
“What do you want to do about sentry placement?” Jake asked.
“I want the majority of our men on the western front. That’s where they’ll send the bulk of their troops in from California. And we use the same strategy at the oil refineries as we do at the fishing villages. Make them come to us.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean packed up the rest of his things and left.
Gordon looked at the map of his Coalition. With the force of the entire military now plotting against him, he wasn’t sure how long those lines would stay in place.
“We might have a little bit of a problem,” Jake said.
Gordon let out an exhaustive sigh. “What is it?”
“Our lab rat is less than cooperative. I’ve given him some motivation to continue the work, but I don’t know how much longer that’s going to last.”
“Once the process is done, we’ll be able to replicate it without his help, but until I’m holding that fucking solution in my bare hands, I want you with him constantly. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Jake pointed to the door where Dean exited. “You know he didn’t tell you about the deserters, right?”
“I know.”
“That’s going to be a problem, Gordon. You knew that from the beginning. Once a jarhead, always a jarhead. Their motto isn’t Semper Fi for nothing.”
“One problem at a time.”
Jake nodded and left. Gordon knew he was right. The code of duty and honor was programmed and hardwired into their brains. He knew some of them would stay, but when the tide started to turn, they’d all run to their beloved army.
Gordon needed an alternative. He locked the door to his office and made sure his secretary understood that he wasn’t to be disturbed for the next hour. He drew the blinds to his window and pulled out his personal laptop. A few minutes later an Asian gentleman appeared on the screen. His jet-black hair was meticulously combed, and the tailored cut of his suit exuded extravagance.
“Mr. Reath, so good of you to call.”
“Yes, it was.”
The man’s face twisted in the faint hint of disgust, which he quickly dispelled with a weak smile. “Your war seems to be heating up. The rest of the international community is very intrigued on how everything will play out.”
“I’m sure they are. Have you given some thought to our last discussion?”
“I have.”
The man went silent. “And?” Gordon asked.
“And it is a very large risk for my country.”
“Sheng, what I’m offering you, the current president can’t. You’ve seen the balance sheet. The United States owes you trillions. This famine pushed the country’s debt over the edge. I know you’ve been putting pressure on the president over the past year, and what has he given you?”
“Any troops offered to your cause will be considered an act of war by the American government, and despite the debt, I’m not comfortable approving such a drastic move.”
“Sheng, it’s now or never. I am guaranteeing you not just the soil solution, but also a down payment on what the American government owes you once I’m in control, and those payments will continue. We can usher in a new alliance that would reshape the rest of the world. Imagine what we could do.”
“From what my intelligence officers have told me, you’ve taken a beating on the western front, already losing Wyoming. How do you expect to stop them, Gordon?”
Gordon thought the prospect of crushing the former world power that was the United States would be enough to sway Sheng’s decision. But the red, white, and blue’s military prowess was still enough to keep the debt collectors at bay.
“If you can take back the ground you’ve lost, I’ll provide you the military support you seek. And I’ll do so openly,” Sheng said.
“I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. President.”
The video call ended, and Gordon slammed the laptop shut. The odds of taking back Wyoming were slim. Gordon’s timeline was shrinking. He needed Sydney to finish the soil solution. There wouldn’t be a single country in the world that wouldn’t protect him for that type of data. It was revolutionary, Sheng knew that, but Sheng also knew that the easiest way to lower the price was to increase Gordon’s desperation.
China was Gordon’s only hope for any military assistance. Europe wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, and South America had a collective army that the state of Texas could take out single-handedly. Sheng was playing it smart, and because of that Gordon would have to change the way he was going to get out of this alive.