Memories of home made Nate anxious and impatient. In just a few hours, it would be his face that filled the screens. It would be his show under the bright lights of international television. He longed for that show to be a success. For his boys to see their father standing tall. Describing their country’s amazing victory. He felt guilty for so petty a thought. His men were fighting for their lives. But he closed his eyes and reveled in a victory that was still in doubt. He relished the triumph over all who doubted — even to those who resided in his own home.
‘Sir?’ Colonel Reed said. Nate opened his eyes. ‘Seventh Corps commander is on the line. He’s got the latest Unit positions.’ Nate felt a tightening of his chest. The previously boisterous room grew quiet. Nate made his way across the large room to the radio. He could already hear the sound of the general’s voice. The man was asking the communications officer what he thought of the President’s just-completed State of the Union address. Its buoyant tone was a good omen.
‘Clark here,’ Nate said loudly over the speakerphone. ‘General Clark!’ came the voice of his corps commander. ‘Are you ready for current positions?’
Pads and paper rustled all around.
‘Ready on this end,’ Nate replied. His heart pounded. His throat constricted. ‘Give me your forwardmost unit.’
‘2nd Battalion, 173rd Armored Cavalry Regiment,’ came the tinny voice over the radio, ‘north bank of Amur River.’
The room burst into cheers. ‘Pipe down!’ Nate shouted, silencing the room.
‘Token resistance only,’ the radio voice continued. ‘The front-line Chinese units are totally spent. Their stocks of ammo must be ridiculously low. A lot of their units are flat running out. But intell is speculating that some units in the interior of the main pockets may be sitting on substantial stocks that they never succeeded in moving forward. I’d like to request a delay in bridging operations so we can secure our flanks north of the Amur. We’re so far ahead of schedule that a twenty-four hour pause shouldn’t…’
‘Negative,’ Clark interrupted. ‘You’re “Go” to cross the Amur in strength just as soon as the engineers certify the bridge.’ There was a long pause. ‘Do you acknowledge?’
‘I read you five-by-five, General Clark,’ the reluctant corps commander replied. ‘Orders are to begin crossing the Amur.’ When they’d signed off, Reed waited on Clark. ‘What about the 25th LID?’ Reed asked. ‘They’ve encountered light resistance and are at the Amur south of Birobidzhan.’
‘Send them across,’ Clark said.
‘What’s their objective?’
Clark turned to Reed. ‘To cross the Amur River into China.’
‘It’s too early to get a read on how President Davis did tonight,’ one of the American network commentators said. Kartsev shook his head in disgust. ‘He needed to be bold given his abysmal approval ratings and the bleak headcount on the impending funding vote on the war. But a speech of this sort is truly unprecedented and, I might add, totally unexpected. We knew the address would be short due to the President’s still-fragile health. But we’ll really have to wait for the first flash polls.’
Kartsev turned the television off. He moaned in frustration. It was a brilliant speech. The best he’d ever heard live. Davis had managed to rise above the fractious political infighting of which Americans had grown so tired. And he’d also defended a highly unpopular war without mentioning it once.
It was still in Kartsev’s dark office. He reflected for a moment on his depression. Was it due to the fact that he was now sitting on the sidelines? Watching events unfold instead of instigating them? But then he reasoned that he had instigated them. He took out a pad and jotted down the sequence of events.
First, the collapse of the Russian government — no mean feat. Then, the destruction of Russia’s remaining institutions of power in the civil war. Ditto. UNRUSFOR and China had simply been sucked into the vacuum — pure cause and effect — with war the inevitable result. And who would win that war? UNRUSFOR, of course. His pen rested on the blank space at the end of his list. The dividing point between past and future. He wrote. ‘What will happen in China?’
Kartsev could no more predict the future than he could have foretold any of the events he’d just listed. Anarchy in Russia had been an end unto itself. The strained tendons and failing tissues of Russian society had created an historic, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The serendipity was finding the large-scale social forces his experiment had unleashed. And the scale of those forces could get no greater than China — one-quarter of the human population.
Kartsev looked at the sequence of events he’d jotted down. An excellent summary of all that had happened. A conclusion to his bulging manuscript. He turned to his glowing computer and set to work on his final chapter. All the while loomed the unanswerable question. What next for China?
‘Who’s this?’ Gordon Davis asked.
‘Ralph Stevenson,’ Daryl replied. He held the receiver out to Gordon. His finger hovered above the blinking light. ‘He’s a Democrat from…’
Gordon waved impatiently for the phone. Daryl pressed the button. ‘Ralph!’ Gordon said in a good-natured tone. His fingers massaged his throbbing temples. ‘Have you heard the great news?’
The Congressman was uncertain. ‘Uhm, about the war?
‘You bet about the war! We’re kickin’ their butts all the way back to Beijing! What do the people back in Louisville have to say about that?’ Again there was hesitation. ‘You have been getting faxes and calls, I imagine.’ Gordon spoke so loudly it made his head pound.
As the man answered guardedly, Gordon fumbled with his painkillers’ childproof cap. Elaine appeared just then with a mug of hot tea. Gordon made an apologetic face, but she quickly nodded and rested her cool hand on his clammy forehead. He gulped the pill down with the minty tea.
‘Well, I know you’ve made commitments to your leadership, Ralph,’ Gordon said. ‘But you’ve got other commitments to honor too, don’t you? To the people from Kentucky who put you in office? To your country?’
‘Mr President, we’ve given you ample time to bring this war to an end, and…’
‘What about bringing this war to a victory, Ralph? That’s where we are, you know. Right there on the verge of winning this thing! Now what’re you gonna tell the people back in Louisville come election time if you help pull the plug on the single most successful American military operation since D-Day?’
The man laughed nervously and hedged. Elaine dabbed at Gordon’s forehead with a handkerchief. Daryl raised a three-by-five card for Gordon to see. ‘Jim Berne on 2!’ Daryl mouthed.
‘Listen, Ralph!’ Gordon interrupted. ‘Time’s short here. There are men and women over there dying trying to win this war. You’ve got a vote. On behalf of them and your country, I’m asking you to cast it in favor of the continuing resolution. Can I count on you?’
He heard a faint sigh, then a tired, ‘All right, Mr President.’
‘Thank you very much, Congressman Stevenson!’ Gordon said. Muted cheers rose up from around the Oval Office. A junior aide changed the tallies on a white board. ‘221’ he wrote under the ‘For’ sign.