New Empire
04-01-2006, 23:20
[The White House]
"Well, it looks as if everyone is here... Shall we get started?"
President O'Connell wasn't a young man anymore, though he was young for a President. Nevertheless, three years of being the first Liberty Coalition President, or the first Third Party canditate President for that matter, had taken its toll. His face was losing ground to age, and his reddish-blonde hair was beginning to gray. And the usual cheery, gleaming white smile was replaced by a grim, motionless line that opened only to produce words and admit steaming hot coffee.
This meeting was not a usual one. The President of the United States was never truly idle, but this was certainly above the norm. Cabinet members in various states of emotion sat around him. His Vice President was preparing to go on a trip to Southern America to raise US support again.
The Cabinet members nodded to the President, and the meeting began.
"First on the agenda for today is Defense... Mr. Rawlins, I believe this honor falls to you."
The baldheaded SecDef nodded, and tapped a button on his PDA. A map of the United States popped up, zooming in on the Northern border with Canada.
"As you all know, the Canadian problem has two solutions. If we're going to win over the hawk vote and maintain our policies, we need to do something about these bastards. Canada is a threat to our national security. Consider their control of the St. Lawerence River and significant amounts of the Great Lakes. If the US was to take any action that would anger Canada, they could effectively strangle huge parts of our Great Lakes trade. If the US is to pursue any of our previous policy notes, we need effective control of the St. Lawerence River. The first thing we can do is to attempt to force a Canadian capitulation and exclusive US rights to armed patrols in the entire region. Unlikely to happen. The Canadians won't want to transfer any of their locks over, since they can tax US shipping. We'll send it out later for good measure.
"But what I am proposing now is a three punch knockout to the Canadian nation. This information hasn't gone outside the most secret levels of the US military, lets hope it stays that way.
"First off, while we conduct negotiations, I advise that we put all of the 200 odd divisions on or close to the Canadian border on full alert. I would also recommend moving all availible Ogre Mk Xs to combat settings. It will be visible, but its a damn effective message. There's only one nation that publicly fields anything equivalent, and they're our buddies on the other side of the Atlantic."
He was referring to Spain, arguably one of the US's greatest technology competitors.
"Secondly, I have asked Congress to include funding for several fixed emplacement railguns to supplement our current 12 500MW installations across the US. Cost will be roughly 20 billion USD but we can get it done very quickly. If you want further information, Mr. President, I have a file prepared for you on the SecureNet."
"Don't worry, Mitch. I'll sign the budget. Democrats won't care as long as we leave the Edu-Welfare alone."
"At least until we make motions to take out the Canadians" mused O'Connell.
"They'll fall in. America's itching for a war after fighting a bunch of nuts in Iraq for the last 12 years. Our domestic security policy seemed to work nicely." Rawlins knew the insane grip war could take on a nation. Even the Iraq war had plenty of support early on. The key was not turning it into a clusterfuck.
"Any other possible threats?"
"Well, we need to keep an eye on Cuba, of course. But I'm sure our Latin American allies will be able to help us with that. I don't think any new funding will be necessary now."
O'Connell was relieved, and thanked God and Rizaria for the support they'd garnered. Colombia, Venezuela and Mexico were all very US friendly in terms of trade policies, and hopefully those bonds would last through war. The defense agenda would be finished later, he needed this briefing done quick.
"Mr. Woo?"
The DoE chief nodded.
"As you know we'd like to keep funding up for four new federally-owned PBMRs, as well as our Solar Farm. I assume we'll get the funding?"
The Solar Farm was an outgrowth of an old idea: With America's revitalized space-launch program major costs had been going down. In 2014 the US began launching components for a giant solar collector array in orbit over the Tropics.
"Of course, unless there are any major complications."
"Well, there is the issue of enemy ASAT activity. The donor corporations want a guarantee that we will retaliate with military force in the event of an attack."
The President nodded. "It'll be done."
Space warfare was only one of the new realities he had to face. Now nations were fielding all sorts of new weapons, and American space supremacy was no longer a guarantee. Woo went on about alcofuel reports, and they went through practically the entire proposed budget. It was going to be a lot longer than he'd hoped.
[Detroit]
"HANDS OFF CANADA. MAKE PEACE AMERICA!"
The liberals were out in force today. Streets in Detroit had once been clogged with gang violence: But the military presence nearby had helped quell that a little. When the national guard was called in 2010, people sat up and took notice. Now there were dozens of divisons in Northern Michigan. And those who wanted better relations with socialist Canada hated it.
"For fucks sake, they never shut up? And all day too. Where are these people getting their food from? Pizza? God."
The cops stood in riot gear down the street from the mass of protestors and posters. The human mob seemed to occupy some part of the city 24/7. Local news and national networks alike crowded over it. A few freelancers were using various micro-digicams to sell feeds and pics to the blogs. A real media circus, as if 400,000 protestors wasn't enough to worry about.
"You know, I wish we'd get more food. I've been standing around here for hours with nothing but stale gum." The cop leaned on his plastishield and grunted. "These fucking riot boots are killing me. I really should have broken these in."
"Woulda, coulda, shoulda. And we rotate off in an hour."
"If. We're. Lucky."
"Damn right we are. Remember the WTO riots in NYC? We're lucky nobody's goddamned carbombed something yet."
"Please, its day one. Wait for someone to bump shoulders with one of us and they'll be setting shit on fire faster than you can say 'Police Brutality'."
The chant continued. Someone raised an ASP banner and started some obscure worker's song.
"GET A JOB YOU SHIFTLESS PRICKS!"
A few store vendors were no doubt irate over this clogging up their business. They'd scheduled their work as close to the commercial district as possible. Now an older one was hurling insults as the ASP members pounded on his Mickey D's windows.
And then-
"Ohhh fuck."
Someone had mustered enough strength to crash through the window.
"What the fuck is happening down there?"
The riot troopers lifted their shields and began a trot down the street. And then a shot rang out.
Apparently, this being Detroit, the owner of that McDonalds had in his possesion a Mossberg 500 Home Defense. Hopefully, it was loaded with rock salt.
The crowd fleeing away revealed a body with a softball sized bloody pit in it.
"Lucky my ass."
A loudspeaker blared as teargas grenades clattered across the pavement. A news helicopter wobbled overhead, rotors audibly thrashing as the cameraman leaned for a better shot.
"THIS IS THE DETROIT POLICE. ATTENTION ALL: PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND LIE ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD. VIOLATORS WILL BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY."
"Fuck the baton..."
The cop pulled out a punchgun, an orange-barrelled shotgun like affair that fired gelatin rounds at low velocity. Low meaning, enough not to break ribs.
"DETROIT PD, DOWN ON THE GROUND."
The punchgun certainly had a better psychological effect. You could run away from a baton, but not this thing. Frazzled protestors were on the ground, while a few drunks were screaming obscenities.
"SIR, GET ON THE GROUND. HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD."
The man staggered towards him, branding his poster like a sword.
"Fuck you, pig." He slurred his words. Yep. Drunk. And then he swung with the poster.
The cop sidestepped and moved his shield aside,rasing the Punchgun and placing it on a support so he could fire it. And fire it he did.
The gelatin round phoomped out and hit the man in the chest. The bright orange blob pancaked and knocked him down, and he was quickly plasticuffed. The cop grabbed his mastoids in a compliance manuver and dragged him over to the other blueboys who were dealing with arrests. Damn hard managing a riot and a crime scene at once.
But some say all great American moments resulted from problems.
Those people were not riot cops, apparently.
"Well, it looks as if everyone is here... Shall we get started?"
President O'Connell wasn't a young man anymore, though he was young for a President. Nevertheless, three years of being the first Liberty Coalition President, or the first Third Party canditate President for that matter, had taken its toll. His face was losing ground to age, and his reddish-blonde hair was beginning to gray. And the usual cheery, gleaming white smile was replaced by a grim, motionless line that opened only to produce words and admit steaming hot coffee.
This meeting was not a usual one. The President of the United States was never truly idle, but this was certainly above the norm. Cabinet members in various states of emotion sat around him. His Vice President was preparing to go on a trip to Southern America to raise US support again.
The Cabinet members nodded to the President, and the meeting began.
"First on the agenda for today is Defense... Mr. Rawlins, I believe this honor falls to you."
The baldheaded SecDef nodded, and tapped a button on his PDA. A map of the United States popped up, zooming in on the Northern border with Canada.
"As you all know, the Canadian problem has two solutions. If we're going to win over the hawk vote and maintain our policies, we need to do something about these bastards. Canada is a threat to our national security. Consider their control of the St. Lawerence River and significant amounts of the Great Lakes. If the US was to take any action that would anger Canada, they could effectively strangle huge parts of our Great Lakes trade. If the US is to pursue any of our previous policy notes, we need effective control of the St. Lawerence River. The first thing we can do is to attempt to force a Canadian capitulation and exclusive US rights to armed patrols in the entire region. Unlikely to happen. The Canadians won't want to transfer any of their locks over, since they can tax US shipping. We'll send it out later for good measure.
"But what I am proposing now is a three punch knockout to the Canadian nation. This information hasn't gone outside the most secret levels of the US military, lets hope it stays that way.
"First off, while we conduct negotiations, I advise that we put all of the 200 odd divisions on or close to the Canadian border on full alert. I would also recommend moving all availible Ogre Mk Xs to combat settings. It will be visible, but its a damn effective message. There's only one nation that publicly fields anything equivalent, and they're our buddies on the other side of the Atlantic."
He was referring to Spain, arguably one of the US's greatest technology competitors.
"Secondly, I have asked Congress to include funding for several fixed emplacement railguns to supplement our current 12 500MW installations across the US. Cost will be roughly 20 billion USD but we can get it done very quickly. If you want further information, Mr. President, I have a file prepared for you on the SecureNet."
"Don't worry, Mitch. I'll sign the budget. Democrats won't care as long as we leave the Edu-Welfare alone."
"At least until we make motions to take out the Canadians" mused O'Connell.
"They'll fall in. America's itching for a war after fighting a bunch of nuts in Iraq for the last 12 years. Our domestic security policy seemed to work nicely." Rawlins knew the insane grip war could take on a nation. Even the Iraq war had plenty of support early on. The key was not turning it into a clusterfuck.
"Any other possible threats?"
"Well, we need to keep an eye on Cuba, of course. But I'm sure our Latin American allies will be able to help us with that. I don't think any new funding will be necessary now."
O'Connell was relieved, and thanked God and Rizaria for the support they'd garnered. Colombia, Venezuela and Mexico were all very US friendly in terms of trade policies, and hopefully those bonds would last through war. The defense agenda would be finished later, he needed this briefing done quick.
"Mr. Woo?"
The DoE chief nodded.
"As you know we'd like to keep funding up for four new federally-owned PBMRs, as well as our Solar Farm. I assume we'll get the funding?"
The Solar Farm was an outgrowth of an old idea: With America's revitalized space-launch program major costs had been going down. In 2014 the US began launching components for a giant solar collector array in orbit over the Tropics.
"Of course, unless there are any major complications."
"Well, there is the issue of enemy ASAT activity. The donor corporations want a guarantee that we will retaliate with military force in the event of an attack."
The President nodded. "It'll be done."
Space warfare was only one of the new realities he had to face. Now nations were fielding all sorts of new weapons, and American space supremacy was no longer a guarantee. Woo went on about alcofuel reports, and they went through practically the entire proposed budget. It was going to be a lot longer than he'd hoped.
[Detroit]
"HANDS OFF CANADA. MAKE PEACE AMERICA!"
The liberals were out in force today. Streets in Detroit had once been clogged with gang violence: But the military presence nearby had helped quell that a little. When the national guard was called in 2010, people sat up and took notice. Now there were dozens of divisons in Northern Michigan. And those who wanted better relations with socialist Canada hated it.
"For fucks sake, they never shut up? And all day too. Where are these people getting their food from? Pizza? God."
The cops stood in riot gear down the street from the mass of protestors and posters. The human mob seemed to occupy some part of the city 24/7. Local news and national networks alike crowded over it. A few freelancers were using various micro-digicams to sell feeds and pics to the blogs. A real media circus, as if 400,000 protestors wasn't enough to worry about.
"You know, I wish we'd get more food. I've been standing around here for hours with nothing but stale gum." The cop leaned on his plastishield and grunted. "These fucking riot boots are killing me. I really should have broken these in."
"Woulda, coulda, shoulda. And we rotate off in an hour."
"If. We're. Lucky."
"Damn right we are. Remember the WTO riots in NYC? We're lucky nobody's goddamned carbombed something yet."
"Please, its day one. Wait for someone to bump shoulders with one of us and they'll be setting shit on fire faster than you can say 'Police Brutality'."
The chant continued. Someone raised an ASP banner and started some obscure worker's song.
"GET A JOB YOU SHIFTLESS PRICKS!"
A few store vendors were no doubt irate over this clogging up their business. They'd scheduled their work as close to the commercial district as possible. Now an older one was hurling insults as the ASP members pounded on his Mickey D's windows.
And then-
"Ohhh fuck."
Someone had mustered enough strength to crash through the window.
"What the fuck is happening down there?"
The riot troopers lifted their shields and began a trot down the street. And then a shot rang out.
Apparently, this being Detroit, the owner of that McDonalds had in his possesion a Mossberg 500 Home Defense. Hopefully, it was loaded with rock salt.
The crowd fleeing away revealed a body with a softball sized bloody pit in it.
"Lucky my ass."
A loudspeaker blared as teargas grenades clattered across the pavement. A news helicopter wobbled overhead, rotors audibly thrashing as the cameraman leaned for a better shot.
"THIS IS THE DETROIT POLICE. ATTENTION ALL: PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND LIE ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD. VIOLATORS WILL BE DEALT WITH ACCORDINGLY."
"Fuck the baton..."
The cop pulled out a punchgun, an orange-barrelled shotgun like affair that fired gelatin rounds at low velocity. Low meaning, enough not to break ribs.
"DETROIT PD, DOWN ON THE GROUND."
The punchgun certainly had a better psychological effect. You could run away from a baton, but not this thing. Frazzled protestors were on the ground, while a few drunks were screaming obscenities.
"SIR, GET ON THE GROUND. HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD."
The man staggered towards him, branding his poster like a sword.
"Fuck you, pig." He slurred his words. Yep. Drunk. And then he swung with the poster.
The cop sidestepped and moved his shield aside,rasing the Punchgun and placing it on a support so he could fire it. And fire it he did.
The gelatin round phoomped out and hit the man in the chest. The bright orange blob pancaked and knocked him down, and he was quickly plasticuffed. The cop grabbed his mastoids in a compliance manuver and dragged him over to the other blueboys who were dealing with arrests. Damn hard managing a riot and a crime scene at once.
But some say all great American moments resulted from problems.
Those people were not riot cops, apparently.