Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 40

William Arrives

The incident with Ethan made waves but nothing was done about it in Percy's camp. He had asked Mackenzie if she needed leave but she curtly refused. The rest of his Company seemed to go about their business as normal, uninterested in the outside world. Word that Ellis was now Commander in Chief were chalked up as mere rumors and generally ignored. Only the Sea Dogs paid close attention to the rumblings in Washington.

Despite doing his best to appear completely out of the loop, Conroy had more knowledge on the situation than perhaps anyone in Union. When a fellow sailor and good friend contacted him directly from the nation's capital, he knew he had to take the call. So in the dark of the late night, Conroy was rushing to get dressed for his nightshift as he switched on the video screen for his phone and was greeted by a Chief Petty Officer.

Conroy was tying his uniform's ascot when he answered. The Chief's first words were, "You guys went back to the ascot? You look like boy scouts."

"We pretty much are now that we've been grounded. All I've done since I got to this dried up hellhole is repair the church and volunteer around town," he complained. After attempting to adjust the ascot just right, he ended up deciding not to tuck it in. This allowed him to focus solely on the conversation. He sighed and said, "Alright. Lay it on me, Chief. What's going on?"

"Ellis is 'going on.' He gave the command for us to surface about twenty four hours ago. Now I'm in Washington about to undergo debrief with Palko. Something tells me news about this hasn't hit the wire yet."

Conroy shook his head, "Not that I've heard. If it was confirmed, I think this group of ground pounders I'm stuck with would have already gone to war."

"Good group?"

"Rowdy group. Not necessarily good."

"Hmm, not sure if I like the sound of that. You'd better be careful, Lewis."

"I will, Chief. I'll chat with the boys about this. Get back in touch with me if anything weird happens," Conroy said. The conversation ended without another word. For a few seconds Conroy didn't move. Motionless, he thought about whether he really should tell his fellow pilots or just keep it a secret. He realized he wouldn't have his mind made up anytime soon, so he set out on his small walk to work.

Conroy arrived at the lone office building and met with his fellow pilots, whom had moved themselves into the communication room. The three of them had the intent of utilizing the large interactive table map there as the better learned the region they now called home.

The two men who sat rather bored at the communications desk spoke to each other about the recently passed Super Bowl and paid no mind to the pilots. Eventually, Wallace showed up with a large thermos of coffee he offered to share, his arm in a stiff cast from the battle with Doyle. He asked what the three men were staring so intently at; they joked they wanted to take over America. Without thinking, Wallace offered the advice that they focus on civilian installations, like police stations. There was a time when the amount of military installations in the United States reached several hundred; when government spending turned more toward domestic projects, the majority of these were shutdown. As time went on, more and more were closed down as the armed forces were consolidated into large camps or sent overseas.

Ultimately it came down to one question: Which direction would benefit them the most if they pushed forward? Eventually the small town of Union would not be enough. A time would come when they would need supplies, and there was always a very real threat that the Army would simply try to starve them out. Ammo and fuel would be needed if they wanted to put up a fight. The more he talked about it, the less and less convinced they got about which direction they should go.

All of this was interrupted when a mechanic for the Sea Dogs shouted from down the hall, "Hey, Johnnie!" He popped his head around the corner and inside the small room. "Hey, Johnnie. Your son was launching rockets again and had another hard start. The damn thing went off like a bomb and nearly blew a hole in the side of a jet. Tell the kid not to launch those things so close to the shop, would you?"

Then the mechanic shoved the youngster through the door and into the communications room. His face had evidence of the hard start in the form of soot and blood, but he showed no outward signs of being in pain. Rawlings pointed to the empty chair in the room and said, "Get in here. Sit." Without a word, Joshua did exactly as his father ordered.

Before Joshua was fully seated they were joined by another soldier. Royal had walked in, saw people were there, and proceeded to turn around and almost walk out. He was stopped by Wallace who said, "Come in here, Royal, and have some coffee with me." So he slinked back inside but avoided eye contact with everyone aside from the Warrant Officer. These created three separate groups which had three separate conversations: Wallace and Royal, who spoke to each other about family and marriage; the communications experts who spoke of football and current events; and the Sea Dogs, which still had their focus on the map in front of them but whose tune had changed greatly.

All of these conversations where halted when something popped up unexpectedly on the communications specialist's computer. One man flipped his radio to international communications and said, "Unidentified civilian aircraft, you are entering restricted space, turn around or land immediately. I say again: To the unidentified civilian aircraft, this is restricted space, turn around or land immediately."

A man called back, "Come off it, jarhead. This is the civilian escort of the Solicitor General. We're landing near your helicopter. Give us safe passage."

"What an ass. Think we should just shoot him down?"

"Haha, that would be classic! We could pop him right out of the sky!"

"Please don't joke about killing a key political figure over my town," Wallace ordered. It was only half sincere. "Go ahead and let him land. McGill is out there, right? Give her a heads up and she can provide a military escort. Royal, why don't you go out there and try to take that weasel Attaway off of her hands as soon as possible?"

McGill was outside in the knee deep snow attempting to carefully chip ice off of her helicopter. It was a pain to say the least and she was growing increasingly frustrated. She received word that another helicopter would be joining her and that it was her duty to escort the man who stepped out. As she eyed the area around her, she wondered where exactly they would land since the snow was deep enough to swallow a person. There was no chance for her to brainstorm, however; the civilian helicopter swooped in and landed on the icy ground before she even scurried down her own aircraft.

The whirlwind of snow that was kicked up by the rotating blades caused her to cover her face until the wind died down. When the noise disappeared and she was no longer pelted with small bits of ice she gazed over at the new arrivals. The door slid open and out stepped two men, both in suits. As she approached them to offer a greeting, she slipped her gloves off her hands and cupped her ears; they were frozen and probably cherry red. By the time she was within speaking distance of the newcomers, her ears felt at least a little defrosted.

William stepped in front of his civilian guard and said, "At least they have the decency to send a female escort instead of a dirty soldier."

McGill was raising her hand to salute when William spoke; instantly her hand retreated to her side and remained there. She asked, "How can I help you, gentlemen?"

"I'm William Edmund Attaway V, Solicitor General. I'm here on business. Can I speak to Major Raymond?"

McGill frowned, "Personal business or official business?"

The question was not answered. Royal had moved as fast as his legs would carry him. He had a fear that plagued him, in which he envisioned William to be a swindler and womanizer like his brother Jordan. So when he arrived, he quickly saluted William and said, "Please come with me, General." Then he physically grabbed William despite the fact his bodyguard tried to intervene, and dragged him down the road. McGill followed them regardless.

After about ten steps, Royal let him go. Once he was free, William asked, "Is my brother around here still?"

Royal nodded, "Yes, sir. He was contacted as soon as we received word of your arrival."

As William eyed Royal's back, he raised a brow and said, "You speak mighty formal. Must be a military thing." Royal wasn't sure if it was an insult or a mere observation, so he said nothing in response.

Meanwhile, Jordan heard that his brother had arrived in Union, so he quickly left his house and hightailed it to Percy's office. In his haste, he had yet to button up his shirt. He flew past the other squad leaders, grabbed the handle to Percy's door, and ran straight into it. The awkward sight of a half-dressed Jordan clumsily bumping into a locked door surprisingly caused little laughter. Riane had been interviewing Barton. She worriedly eyed Jordan as he struggled to figure out why the door handle wasn't turning. Before he could figure out it was locked, Percy grew annoyed of the commotion and opened the door for him.

The Major held a hard expression as he glanced over the man in front of him. Jordan ignored the look and forced himself inside. He began to button up his shirt while he spoke, "I just heard that the Solicitor General is on his way here."

"He is here," Percy said. It was clear he was not amused.

"Have you heard any word on why he is coming?" Jordan asked as he attempted to fit a red and blue stripped tie around his neck. "He's already got Ethan, do you think he'll come after you? Have you heard anything from General Ellis recently? God damn this tie!"

Riane stood and sighed, "Let me get that for you."

"Thank you," he said when she grabbed the tie from his hands. He continued his rant, "You've already heard, haven't you? That the Congress had an emergency session earlier this week? – Dammit, Riane, I don't like my ties that tight, you know this! – They managed to pass legislation immediately and was signed into law yesterday by the healed President Kenning."

"Tuck your shirt in. You look like a kid," Riane instructed.

"You tuck it in!" he ordered. She rolled her eyes and began to tuck his shirt in. He ignored her presence and added one more sentence when he said, "Whatever happens Percy, do not let him swindle you into doing or saying anything!"

"What law are you talking about?" Percy asked. The question went unanswered, as by the time he finished speaking it, William was being escorted in. A squad leader opted to turn on the news and see if he could catch what was happening. Unfortunately, all the news channels were more focused on another violent riot that had broken out in Seattle, so nothing of this new law was mentioned. As their eyes focused on the ticker at the bottom of the screen, Royal led William to Percy's office.

William passed a few quick glances around the room in an attempt to judge the soldiers that worked there. It was not clean by any means; coffee cups laid seemingly everywhere, the large whiteboard on one wall had meaningless scribbles written all over it, random paper reports littered the floor, and each squad leader's desk was completely overflowing with non-work related garbage. When his line of sight returned to the front, he found himself face-to-face with the two reporters.

He first caught sight of Riane. He seemed surprised, but it quickly faded and was replaced with indifference. He displayed that feeling well when he said, "Oh, it's you."

She returned his indifference when she off-handedly commented, "Oh, you lost your glasses. That's too bad, you looked better with them. Unfortunately for you, now everyone can plainly see when you're lying."

Percy growled, "I have no need for awkward encounters at my doorstep. If you have business with me, get in here and we can talk. If you don't, get out."

William took Percy's anger in stride. He smiled and said, "Excuse me, Major Raymond. Let me properly introduce myself. I'm William Edmund Attaway V, the Solicitor General of the United States. I'm here on personal business."

"Does this business involve me?" Percy asked.

"Of course," William answered. Percy motioned for him to enter. As William passed his brother, he merely curled his lips up even more until they formed a friendly smile. Percy did not see to it that his door was closed; as a result, the entire conversation between the two of them was plainly heard by all around. William wasted no time with formalities and quickly seated himself in front of Percy's desk. The move did not bother the Major, who swung around to his own seat. Once again William observed the room he was in. He commented, "I see you've decorated your office with war mementos. Although not surprising, it is an interesting choice. I'm too used to seeing offices cluttered with family photos, self-portraits, and worthless pieces of art. Well, not worthless in the monetary sense, but in actual intellectual value."

It became evident immediately to Percy that William had a tendency to speak often much like his brother. He wanted to prevent William from getting out of control. He asked, "What exactly is it that you want?"

"Well, this is my first time at a military base, so I'd like to get a chance to look around," William mentioned. "That's not the answer you were looking for though, was it? To be honest, I'm here to observe your Company in the effort to better understand you all."

Percy inquired, "And exactly what interest would that hold for you, Mr. Attaway? As Solicitor General, you have no professional reason to waste my time here."

"I told you, Major Raymond, I'm here on personal business. The Department of Justice couldn't care less about you at the moment. You're not a threat," William said.

"Interesting that you were threatening just a month ago to pursue legal action against the Major, but now you say that he's not a threat," Jordan mumbled from the doorway.

William hid any irritation he had and put on an amused smile. He said, "You know Major, there's a reason why Francis doesn't bear the William Edmund name. My father knew the day Francis was born that he would not by worthy of such a title. He would grow up a failure. It's scary how spot on his prediction was."

Jordan was thankful for the small amount of maturity he possessed, as it allowed him to remain silent against his younger brother's attack. Instead it was Riane who offered a return when she said, "And he gave you the name William Edmund because he knew the minute you were born that you'd grow up to be a crooked asshole."

William once again hid any sign of misgivings. Somehow his smile remained clear and strong. He said, "There's no need to be so hostile. Matters within the family should stay within the family."

While a small battle erupted between the brothers and complete confusion and chaos took control of Percy's Company, Royal slipped outside. He wondered how often people had ever thought about what was important to them. Family? Of course, but what did that have to do with the philosophical and political aspects of politics and war? No, a simple answer like "family" would not suffice. Instead, perhaps he should focus on what it is he wants for his family.

Something arrived at his feet; or rather, his feet arrived at something. He looked up to where his body had unconsciously taken him and saw his father's church towering over him. There was no hesitation. He pushed the large doors open and stepped inside. A journey he had completed a thousand times or more toward the front pew was commenced. Whether he wore the boots of a soldier, the shoes of a boy, or the bare feet of a child, the action never felt different. A shiver run up his spine; it was freezing outside and the cold breeze snuck in after him, as though it chased him to the front. Yet when he sat down, he felt his body wrapped in warmth. Familiar landscapes were all it took for Royal to relax. While the entire world outside the church had changed, that front pew had yet to move or warp.

Silently a figure approached. It took a seat next to Royal and made not a single noise. Together in the tranquil church they sat, side by side, not a word spoken between each other. Royal did not need to look at the man next to him in order to identify him. He could feel his father's presence. With his eyes bearing down into the church floor, Royal asked, "Dad, why did you fight?"

It took Warren a moment to realize what his son was speaking of. As he thought about what was going through his mind when he was just an eighteen year old boy, he had to smile. A light laugh escaped through his words when he admitted, "I didn't join to fight. I was running away."

"From what?"

"From being a dad," Warren said. He said nothing after that and waited to gauge his son's reaction. There was no noticeable change in Royal's attitude.

"I was thinking about what I want for my child's future," Royal finally said.

Warren shifted; he wanted to correct Royal and say, "You mean, if you have children," but instead he remained quiet. As he watched the young man beside him, he could see the confusion and frustration manifest itself physically. Royal tapped his foot and drummed his fingers on his knee.

"In my lifetime, I have seen wars change entire countries – no, change the entire world. But I never thought I would see war in my country. I love America, dad. I really do. Name me a country as great as this? But can I say that I would gladly raise a child in this world? Would I be able to have a family knowing that soldiers could be just around the corner? And what of rights? Would my child be forced to fight wars, would they be allowed to speak their mind, to know God as you have taught me to know Him?"

"And what will you do to secure this utopia future you want for your child? What can you, as a single man in this great world, do to change it?" Warren inquired.

Royal let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that I'm going to fight."

"Who will you fight?"

"I don't know if it's a 'who.' I think it's more of a 'what.'"

"I understand," Warren smiled. "It seems as though I raised my son right after all. So… when is it you will ask Evelyn to marry you?" The question was greeted with a deep frown and silence. It caused Warren to break into a fit of laughter. He said, "Don't give me that look! If you're going to run off and get yourself killed, I'd like to at least have the opportunity to marry you two."

"I won't be killed, dad."

"I know, son," Warren said, a bit more serious this time. "I have faith in you and faith in God. You are protected, remember that. Just do right, Royal, and all will be well in the end."