and Disaster Services for the State of Washington, stepped up to the platform, speaking into the bouquet of microphones. With printed page in hand and experiencing as much shock as everyone else he addressed the viewers while network and cable outlets carried these historic events to every corner of the United States and abroad.
"As of 12:00 pm Pacific Standard Time," he began. "The Governor's Office has enacted Executive Code 3315.76. I will read its full text:
'All residents of the Puget Sound Region are to remain in their locales while transitioning to Chinese military leadership over the next seventy-two hours. All citizens are ordered to stay within five miles of their legal place of residence until more regular routines are established.'"
A cough. He continued.
"'Municipal and County law enforcement agencies will ensure this is achieved in an orderly fashion. Checkpoints on major arterials will be secured and photo identification required at every stop. Once the new authorities assume their place in our communities, police and sheriff's departments will then disarm and decommission, yielding to the transitional government."
Looking up from prepared notes, he spoke into the camera.
"This is an unfortunate yet necessary measure ensuring the greater public safety. Please, please do not endanger your fellow citizens by engaging in reckless, useless acts of rebellion or refusal."
A pause, considering his next words.
"If there was any other way, I would say 'fight'. There isn't. So don't. Please... don't."
This last statement—unscripted—translated as heartfelt plea, a recognition of humanity's recoil against shackles of oppression and control even in the face of impossible odds.
More awake than ever to what was going on, Zeb backed away from the screen and headed for the front lobby entrance. Conversations arose behind him in the waiting room. A few sounded defiant. Others attempted to talk the would-be rebels out of their foolishness. Many were simply scared.
The Chinese had demanded all civilians and law enforcement stay in place until their authority in the region could be established. It made sense. To mold the region to their vision they needed bodies, workers. The other option, a mass exodus of citizens from the mainland come to populate this place in their stead was both impractical and not really the point. This invasion was about land, yes, but it was more than just that. To conquer land was one thing. To transform a people, something completely other. Besides, if no Americans lived here, no one to threaten with nuclear force, their leverage of reprisal shrunk considerably.
Americans, resuming their daily lives under the watchfulness of Beijing? This was the lynch-pin that would keep it all from imploding.
The orders out of Beijing, now echoed in Olympia, were to stand down. Clearly, some would have no stomach for such a thing. Regardless of the consequences, or maybe in some vain attempt at helping their countrymen, there would be those who disobeyed.
Dalton knew without a doubt there would be runners. He also knew he'd be one of them.
SIXTEEN
Sergeant First Class Jessica Sanchez—Army I Corps, moved quietly, undetected along the tree line off the main airfield at Joint Base (Army, Air-Force) Lewis-McChord.
The frenzy of activity at JBLM , an hour south of Seattle and only a few miles outside Washington State's fourth most populous urban area—Tacoma—provided ample cover for her unauthorized exit. The twenty-eight-year-old Sniper Assessment School Instructor was doing what she was trained for, and in turn, had trained many others to do.
Disappear, completely.
Even without the chorus of C17 cargo planes' turbine engines roaring around her she could've walked past the perimeter guard and into the distance without so much as a broken twig betraying her presence. She was that good. That JBLM's 25,000 active duty and administrative personnel were
"As of 12:00 pm Pacific Standard Time," he began. "The Governor's Office has enacted Executive Code 3315.76. I will read its full text:
'All residents of the Puget Sound Region are to remain in their locales while transitioning to Chinese military leadership over the next seventy-two hours. All citizens are ordered to stay within five miles of their legal place of residence until more regular routines are established.'"
A cough. He continued.
"'Municipal and County law enforcement agencies will ensure this is achieved in an orderly fashion. Checkpoints on major arterials will be secured and photo identification required at every stop. Once the new authorities assume their place in our communities, police and sheriff's departments will then disarm and decommission, yielding to the transitional government."
Looking up from prepared notes, he spoke into the camera.
"This is an unfortunate yet necessary measure ensuring the greater public safety. Please, please do not endanger your fellow citizens by engaging in reckless, useless acts of rebellion or refusal."
A pause, considering his next words.
"If there was any other way, I would say 'fight'. There isn't. So don't. Please... don't."
This last statement—unscripted—translated as heartfelt plea, a recognition of humanity's recoil against shackles of oppression and control even in the face of impossible odds.
More awake than ever to what was going on, Zeb backed away from the screen and headed for the front lobby entrance. Conversations arose behind him in the waiting room. A few sounded defiant. Others attempted to talk the would-be rebels out of their foolishness. Many were simply scared.
The Chinese had demanded all civilians and law enforcement stay in place until their authority in the region could be established. It made sense. To mold the region to their vision they needed bodies, workers. The other option, a mass exodus of citizens from the mainland come to populate this place in their stead was both impractical and not really the point. This invasion was about land, yes, but it was more than just that. To conquer land was one thing. To transform a people, something completely other. Besides, if no Americans lived here, no one to threaten with nuclear force, their leverage of reprisal shrunk considerably.
Americans, resuming their daily lives under the watchfulness of Beijing? This was the lynch-pin that would keep it all from imploding.
The orders out of Beijing, now echoed in Olympia, were to stand down. Clearly, some would have no stomach for such a thing. Regardless of the consequences, or maybe in some vain attempt at helping their countrymen, there would be those who disobeyed.
Dalton knew without a doubt there would be runners. He also knew he'd be one of them.
SIXTEEN
Sergeant First Class Jessica Sanchez—Army I Corps, moved quietly, undetected along the tree line off the main airfield at Joint Base (Army, Air-Force) Lewis-McChord.
The frenzy of activity at JBLM , an hour south of Seattle and only a few miles outside Washington State's fourth most populous urban area—Tacoma—provided ample cover for her unauthorized exit. The twenty-eight-year-old Sniper Assessment School Instructor was doing what she was trained for, and in turn, had trained many others to do.
Disappear, completely.
Even without the chorus of C17 cargo planes' turbine engines roaring around her she could've walked past the perimeter guard and into the distance without so much as a broken twig betraying her presence. She was that good. That JBLM's 25,000 active duty and administrative personnel were
Similar Books
