Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 31

Christmas Eve-Eve

Percy was getting sick and tired of covering his Company's ass every time they were forced to shoot at fellow Americans. How was he supposed to explain to Washington that he was forced to defend not only himself and his troop, but also an entire town from a supposed attack by an officer of the U.S. Army? The bodies of the dead were sent home with the claim that it had merely been a training accident. It was a lie; it was a lie to the grieving and it was a lie to the entire world. He should have posted the facts right on the White House just like Martin Luther and the church; "This is the America that exists today! This is the sad, crippled remains of a once proud country!" As a principle, he did not like lying, he could not tolerate liars, and he did not want to be a hypocrite because he hated them, too.

It felt like he was being jerked around by the system. We've always been jerked around, he thought bitterly. If someone did not expose the secrets once and for all, it would be the end of America. It would simply rip itself open and swallow itself whole from the inside out. He really couldn't blame the militias and rioters for all the destruction they caused; he saw firsthand for himself multiple times how corrupt the authorities were. At least someone, somewhere, was trying to fight for what they believed in. Not everyone would roll over and die. That little bit of fight the militias and rioters had in them might have been all the country needed to stay afloat. Perhaps, it was the only thing keeping them afloat at that very moment. Once they were gone, would the police and soldiers turn their pent up frustration onto the average citizen?

All of those thoughts and all of the stress it put Percy's Company in carried them over the last week and a half until Christmas was near. It was the 23rd of December; the light mist of snow that had fallen during the shootout had turned into an old fashioned snowstorm. People were quite literally snowed in as drifts reached three feet high. It shut down what remained of the construction process for Percy's base. The Major shrugged and said, "Might as well just leave it until… whenever, if you even want to finish it." Such an obvious disregard for his base's completion seemed odd to his men, but they ignored it. No person in Union really complained about much of anything, since they hadn't seen a single drop of precipitation in at least a year and a little snowfall seemed insignificant next to the firestorm that nearly wiped them out. Few knew it was because of a raid and assumed the loud noises were due to the propane tanks exploding. Nobody in Percy's Company really felt like correcting them.

It was the shootings that were difficult to explain. It's not every day that someone with assault rifles dares to shoot at firefighters. Blame was put on the militias that Percy mentally praised for saving America. He had no evidence to prove one way or another. The local sheriff merely said, "There's nothing to worry about. We're working with federal law enforcement agencies in their investigation. However, at this time it appears as though Major Raymond's Company was able to shot and kill all perpetrators." Another lie on top of another lie.

It was on the evening of the 23rd when Percy received a phone call he would have rather not gotten. All of his squad leaders, save Barton, were already off work and enjoying their mini-vacation. Percy himself was about to leave as well when Barton knocked on his door. He poked his head into the Major's office and said, "There's a call for you, Major. It's General Ellis."

The two men stared blankly at each other for a good five seconds before either moved again. Percy picked up his phone, ensured video chat was not active, and questioned, "Hello?"

"Major," the General's voice rang out. "This is General Ellis."

"How are you, General?"

"I'm fine, Major. I hope you enjoy your Christmas," was the greeting. "I just received your report on the incident in Nebraska. I'm sorry to hear about the training accident. These things do happen sometimes, however. I hope no significant damage was done to your post, and you know that you can always grant leave to those involved in accidents such as these. Killing your comrades can't be an easy thing to accept."

Percy was certain his scowl could be heard in his voice when he said, "Of course, General."

"That's not why I called you, though. I called about a recent personnel decision that needs to be reversed. The Sea Dogs need to return to their post on the Sable. Admiral Palko did not get authorization from the United States Army before she granted their request. She needs to learn – and they need to learn – that the Sea Dogs have been grounded for a reason."

"I don't understand, General."

"Let me put it to you this way, Major. Certain elements within the military seem to think they have the right to do whatever they please. We like to tie them to Earth so they don't let their ambitions carry them away. The Sea Dogs need to learn that they are an outdated and overrated group of mere men and nothing more. They're not like us, are they?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Let me make this perfectly clear. If they don't leave Union by New Years, I will wipe your Company and that dinky town right off the map. If they cause me any more trouble, I will not only end their career in the Navy, I will end you."

If there was more to be said, it wasn't. Percy slammed the phone down, threw his jacket on and left in a huff. Barton watched the entire scene in mild interest, but just chalked it up to Percy's eccentric personality.

The Major had originally planned to go straight to the barracks and catch some sleep. Instead his feet carried him down the icy sidewalk to Tom's Tavern. The noise from inside the establishment could be heard clearly outside and he hesitated for just a moment. I just want a drink, he said to himself. I could always go buy a bottle and drink by myself. For some reason that seemed like even more of a hassle so he entered the Tavern, the racket cascading out like a waterfall onto the streets. It was much louder inside than he thought possible.

His men had completely taken over. They were packed in so tight it didn't look like another body could fit. Drunk Boomerang stood atop a table, his guitar in hand, and sang surprisingly well, "As I was goin' over, the Appalachian Mountains, I met with General Ellis and his money he was counting; I first produced my rifle, and then produced my rapier. Said, 'Stand and deliver for I am a bold deceiver!'" The less talented voices of many other soldiers joined him in his exuberant song and dance. They were so absorbed in themselves they didn't even notice Percy enter.

He spotted Conroy by himself at the bar and decided he would make conversation with the Commander. Fortunately enough time had passed since he was shot that he could walk effortlessly, but he couldn't stand, sit, or lie down for long periods of time. This meant he was able to avoid the slow crawl he normal did and the attention it gave him from the patrons. He arrived at the bar and sat himself down in the old fashioned stool that awaited him. The pilot set down his pint of beer and greeted the Major with a smile.

"Howdy, Major."

"We're off duty, Commander," Percy said. Tom, the bartender, managed to grab a glass for Percy and almost had it filled before he sat down. "You can call me Percy."

"Then you should call me Conroy," the pilot said as he took a large swig of his beer.

Percy also indulged himself in his drink before he spoke again. "What are you doing all by yourself?" he asked.

Conroy turned over his shoulder to look at the saloon. His attention went to the front right corner, where Rawlings sat with his back against the wall. On the opposite side of the table sat a rather pretty young woman who smiled at every move he made. She had caught the eye of several men, but if anyone came within three feet of their table Rawlings would snarl like a dog ready to bite. Next to them, seated at another table, was Wilson and his wife; they were side by side, held hands and every time they exchanged quick kisses they would giggle like junior high students. Conroy then found himself facing his beer once more.

After he swallowed another drink, he said, "I'm glad we're able to settle down for once. Those two guys have already moved their family here and are talking about which houses they want to buy. It's great, it really is."

"You don't have a family?"

Conroy shook his head, "Nah, I'm too much of an adventurer; a rambling, wayward bachelor that does best alone. That and, honestly I'm fairly horrible with women." He managed to let out a deep laugh over the statement. "Don't confuse me as a ladies man, no sir. I have more fun pampering a woman than I do pounding a woman."

Tom interrupted, "Speaking of womanizers… Where the hell is that bastard Jordan? He owes me over fifty bucks on his tab. He promised me he'd pay it today so I could buy a Christmas gift for my daughter. Doesn't he know the stores in this town are closed on Christmas Eve?"

Percy explained, "He went to New Jersey like two days ago to pick up his family. He might stay there for Christmas, though I think he wants to get them away from there as fast as possible."

"Merry Christmas Eve-Eve!" Riane's voice screamed next to Percy's ear. She gave him no time to respond; as soon as his mouth was open she gave him a sloppy kiss. His entire body heated by ten degrees. "So glad you could make it to the party!"

"Are you drunk?" he inquired, the flavor of her lips still lingering.

"Do I taste like I'm drunk?" she asked. His already red cheeks managed to deepen in color and he refused to make eye contact. "Don't worry, I'm perfectly sober. I don't make for much of a fun drunk." His body was motionless and he said not a word. She raised a brow, "Was that uncalled for? Unappealing? Was my technique lacking? Are you gay?" He mumbled a response, so quiet no one was sure if he even uttered a word. "Did you say something?"

Now he was just embarrassed, because he could feel Conroy, Riane and Tom all leaning in closer to see if they could hear what he was saying. So he swallowed and said, "It's nothing."

"Aw," Riane crowed. She grabbed his cheek and playfully gave it a pinch. "Was that baby's first kiss?"

His voice was distorted by her grip on his face. "No!" he argued, although his face continued to stay red. She let go of him and he rubbed the sore spot. In a quieter tone he confessed, "It's just been a long time since I've been kissed, that's all."

"Well that explains why you're such a weirdo, Percy," Conroy said. "A man gets frustrated sometimes and he takes it out in all the wrongs ways."

"Frustrated?"

"You know," Conroy said, "sexually."

Percy covered his face with his hands and continued to mumble to himself. If he had a choice, he would have stayed like that for the rest of the night. Tom, however, pried Percy's hands away and silently pointed behind him. He turned to see that the entire tavern had halted all activity and focused their attention on a small scuffle that was threatening to break out.

Chiang Sun's squad had occupied a table and largely kept to themselves. Someone from Skipper's squad said a few harsh words at them, which eventually evolved into a tirade by Roo. No one from Chiang Sun's squad had said a word yet, but Chen stepped in and caused a commotion. It was his loud shouts that made everyone stare. He stood between Chiang Sun and Roo. He yelled, "You shut your trap, Corporal! You got something to say? You think you're cool 'coz you got a swastika tattoo? You think you're tough 'coz slaughtered Chinese in Lhasa?"

Roo had a hard expression but did not move. "Don't talk about that like you understand," he seethed.

"What are you going to do about it?" Chen dared. "Bring it, you fuckin' skinhead; bring it, you fuckin' racist! You f*****g pig!" With each insult he physically pushed Roo, but the Corporal did not respond and accepted each push. It hurt the bullet wound he had received not twenty days ago; the wince on his face was proof of that.

Just when it looked like Roo was about to break, Goldwin stepped in. With his arms outstretched he placed the palm of his hands on the chests of both men. Both of their hearts were beating too fast. "Watch yourself, Sergeant," Goldwin said.

"Oh, it's you!" Chen sarcastically greeted. "The great Mighty Mouse, the asshole that took the advice of a Senator and okayed an attack on Americans in Ozark! Nice job leveling the forest, you piece of s**t! I lost a good man because of that stupid operation! I had to kill Marines, and for what f*****g reason?"

Goldwin's face turned tomato red faster than even Percy's had. Yet the man merely inhaled deeply and calmed himself down. It was time for Goldwin to be defended; Wilson approached from behind and grabbed Chen's shoulder. "There's no need to speak to an officer that way," he said. Wilson was not much older than Goldwin but certainly lacked his ability to remain calm. If anything, he entered the argument just so he could be a part of it.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Chen yelled as he threw Wilson's hand off. "I'm not going to listen to some punk ass sailor! You and your friends are cowards! You have no idea what war is like! That's why you can kill without a second thought, just like you did in Taipei, just like you did in Ozark! What happened in Corpus Christi is called karma!"

Wilson snapped. He grabbed Chen by his collar and lifted him off the ground. "Don't f**k with me, you c***k! I've killed a million of your men and f****d a million of your women! You're damn right I massacred those bastards in Taipei! Just like they did to the defenseless women and children who lived there! And you're damn right I leveled Ozark! I'd level this whole country if it got rid of the arrogant f***s like you!"

It looked like they were about to exchange blows when Rawlings grabbed Wilson's wrists and forced him to release Chen. "Enough, Rashaun," he ordered. Wilson backed away without fight.

Chen adjusted his collar and said, "Your pretty boy lover shows up to save the day. You're lucky, b***h, because I would have whooped your ass." At Chiang Sun's table, one of his men, a European-born man, accidentally made eye contact with Chen. "You got a fuckin' problem, kraut? You're probably a spy or something, right? All you damn bohunks are the real savages."

The door to the establishment opened and a blissful Jordan skipped inside. His intrusion was the new source of everyone's eyes. Upon reaching the realization that he had walked into a precarious situation, he made a grand gesture with this arms and sang, "I am leaving now. Nice seeing everyone!"

"Get back here, Jordan! You owe me money!"

Chen spat, "I'm leaving, too. I don't want to hang around a bunch of rapists and murderers. Fuckin' rebels, are ya? We'll see where that gets you when you're dead!" He pushed past Jordan and left in a flat hurry.

An awkward silence set in and was broken when Cowboy of Skipper's squad thought he heard a Central American member of Skipper's squad say something. "Eh, what was that?" he asked. He got dangerously close to the man's face, even daring to lean down closer. Not even an inch away from his nose, Cowboy asked again, "Why don't you join the c***k? Eh? Lárgate! Lárgate!"

Rawlings forcefully grabbed Cowboy and ripped him away. It was a surprisingly violent move from the reserved pilot. No one at Chiang Sun's table had moved. He sternly commanded, "Enough of this. The next man to make a comment based on another's race or past will be dealt with accordingly."

"Under whose authority do you reign, fag?" Cowboy hissed. "Ya bend over and take it for the Major, so now you're his lapdog?"

"Oh, for f**k's sake this is getting ridiculous!" Riane cursed. She slammed a glass on the ground hard enough for it to break. Now she was center stage. "How many more shitty insults can you guys come up with before you go home to mommy and daddy? Why the hell are you calling him a fag, anyway?"

"All them Navy boys suck each other's d**k," another man cried out. It was not from Chiang Sun or Skipper's squad. Percy immediately tried to see if he could spot the offender. "Fine man like him was popular, I'm sure!"

"He's got a hot babe for a wife quietly chewing on her greens in the corner, what was the last p***y you got?" Riane argued.

"Get over here, little girl, and you'll be next!" Cowboy yelled. He had the chance to take three steps with his arms outstretched before Jordan stepped in front of him. When the soldier tried to travel past him, Jordan held him back; when he then tried to fight his way out of Jordan's grip, it took Wilson, Goldwin and Rawlings to help subdue him. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson, you slut!"

Skipper had enough. He stood and neared Cowboy in a steady pace. Roo gulped and it was heard throughout the room; Skipper rarely got himself involved unless he was really angry. As the man kicked and struggled against the others, Skipper grabbed him by the back of his neck and removed him from their clutches. Then, without a word, he slammed Cowboy's face so hard into the table that Chiang Sun sat at it shook.

"I've had enough!" Skipper yelled. He had never raised his voice in the presence of others before. "I'm sick you embarrassing me and making a mockery of your comrades. That goes for all of you!" His entire squad jumped and felt their cheeks turn red. Then he raised Cowboy's head only to slam it down again even harder. "You apologize, right now! Do it!"

The second blow had broken Cowboy's nose, but he managed to say, "I'm sorry!" Apparently it wasn't good enough, because Skipper smashed his head down once more. It was enough to knock Cowboy out cold, who slumped into a heap on the floor.

"You guys think you have problems?" Skipper asked. The veins in his neck looked ready to pop. "Why, because you have to work with someone you don't like? Last I heard your home didn't burn to the ground! Think about the people of this town the next you think you have problems!"

"Yes, Skipper!" his men cried in unison.

"For that, you all can go outside and shovel every inch of snow off the street in your boxers. Get to it!"

"Yes, Skipper!"

Everyone watched as the squad filed out of the bar; Royal and Boomerang stopped long enough to pick up Cowboy. When the door closed behind them, everyone tried to continue their little celebration. Conroy was too amused by the entire situation and called out to Rawlings, "Hey, Johnnie! Hey ya 'fag,' don't you owe this brave lady a thank you for coming to your rescue?" Rawlings did not respond; he sent a small frown over his shoulder at Conroy. The Commander could only laugh, "Ah, come on, Johnnie! Say a thank you!"

Rawlings left without a word, leaving his wife alone to pay the tab. Wilson sighed and slumped into the chair nearest to him; it happened to be at Chiang Sun's table. The Sergeant looked at him through his one good eye and said, "So it was you guys who bombed Taipei."

A sorrowful glint lit up in Wilson's green eyes. "Yeah," he admitted. "It's not something I like to talk about."

"It is alright," Chiang Sun said. "I am not angry. I just wanted to see for myself if the men who did it were regretful. I forgive you."

Jordan took a seat next to Conroy. The small lines that adorned his face were from the shrapnel that nearly cost him his life. A single bandage covered the deepest gash that rested near his left eye, but the rest were doomed to fade away and be forgotten. Jordan said, "I thought I was going to get knocked out back there!"

Conroy tried not to laugh. "I thought my friends were going to get themselves killed," he joked.

"Maybe I should rethink everything," Percy suddenly spoke. He had been silent during the entire exchange, curious to see if the fight could be resolved without his help. "There's clearly some personal issues that need to be dealt with, but I think it could work."

"What will work?" Riane questioned.

"It's nothing," he smiled. When everyone raised a brow, he said, "Really, it's nothing! Let's just enjoy… what did you call it? Christmas Eve-Eve?"