The Fate Of Nations: F.I.R.E. Team Alpha: Book One (6 page)

              Carter interrupted him then. “But sir,” he asked, “Why didn’t all of that show people how dangerous allowing a government, any government, to become that out of control is? Like I said before, this didn’t happen overnight. Someone had to realize that they were heading for an authoritarian government, but there seemed to have been little or no resistance.”

              “Doug, we’re talking about a program of systematic, scientific social engineering that had been going on for at least half a century,” Hicks said. “The educators, the news, and the popular media actually spun the economic disaster that global socialism caused as a failure of capitalism. They blamed the greed of the wealthy for the economic collapse. Since that was the only explanation that was readily forthcoming, most people accepted it.”

              “I’ve read a lot about the last half of the twentieth century; about how socialist statism took hold in the west even though it was failing miserably everywhere else,” Carter said. “But nothing I’ve read explained how that happened. You said there was a social engineering program, and there certainly was, but who were the social engineers; how did they gain so much influence?”

              Hicks chuckled again. “Doug, I’m not sure there will ever be an answer to that question. Some historians will tell you it was a conspiracy. They say that there was a cabal of elitists from academia, business, and government that deliberately plunged the world into chaos in order to rebuild it into their version of a true socialist utopia; with the cabal in charge of course. Other people will tell you that there was no conspiracy. They say that it was just a group of like-minded individuals who happened to have the right combination of power, money, and influence to move societal evolution in the direction they wanted it to go. That isn’t a conspiracy as much as it is a movement; a natural progression into global socialism led by the supposedly enlightened few.” 

              “And in order for socialism to be pure then it had to be global in scope?” Carter asked.

              “Right,” Hicks agreed. “They reasoned that socialism had failed throughout history because nationalism, especially nationalism from capitalist countries, kept the socialist system from functioning properly. The logical solution, for them anyway, was to abolish nations. Since socialism depends on a political and economic collective, everyone had to be a part of the collective.”

              “And, by that time, things were so bad economically that most people accepted a global government because they thought things couldn’t get any worse," Carter observed.

              “Right,” Hicks confirmed. “But there were a few people in every country that didn’t accept it and resisted. In the United States that movement was small at first, But, once the WCA started rounding up slave labor for ‘labor Battalions’ so they could try and get the factories working, and started confiscating
all
private property, not just the property of the wealthy, riots broke out. The local WCA officials tried to use American military and police forces to stomp out the unrest. Some of those forces followed the WCAs orders and fought the rioters, but most refused to fight American citizens.”

              “That’s when they brought in WCA troops from other countries.” Carter said. “I remember hearing about that on a pirate radio station. A WCA infantry regiment from Venezuela fired on unarmed protesters in Huston.”

              “Over six hundred people were killed,” Hicks continued. “That was when it all came to a boil. The WCA troops found out the hard way that they hadn’t confiscated all of guns in private hands. Fighting broke out, all at once, all over the country. It was disorganized at first, but eventually the military and police forces sided with the American people and started fighting the foreign troops. After that, the war was well and truly on.”

              Carter tilted his head. “That’s just it, Sir,” Carter said. “After all of that social engineering and propaganda, why did anyone resist at all? They had accepted being given into slavery by their leaders until that point; what made them decide to fight back all of the sudden?”

              A slight smile formed on Hick’s lips. “Because, for all of their social engineering and propaganda, the globalist planners neglected one thing: the human soul.” Hicks affirmed, tapping his chest indicating his heart. “At the core of every human being are the need to be free; and the natural aversion to taking freedom away from others. No amount of propaganda can change that. There are people who enjoy hurting or enslaving others, but they are criminals and deviants to begin with. When push comes to shove, there is always someone who will stand up to tyranny, spit in its eye, and say
no
.”

              “Besides that,” Hicks went on, “There always a few people that the social engineering doesn’t work on; people who love their country and hold fast to their ideals. There were a few people, like your old man, who saw that a war with the globalists was coming and tried to stop it and, failing that, they prepared to win it.” 

              “So the bottom line is that we allowed the United States to become complacent. We lost confidence in the principles the nation was founded on; began to doubt our own moral judgment. We lacked the confidence to keep building, to keep advancing, or even to defend ourselves. Once that all happened, the American people accepted anything that the government did, no matter what it cost them. Is that right, Sir?” Carter asked.

              “That’s about right, and it wasn’t just the United States, Doug,” Hicks corrected. “It happened to all the western democracies. Once national pride died out, then national sovereignty had to die too. The only thing that kept the power of the nations in check was the power of other nations. Without that balance of power there was no way that the WCA could be anything but tyrannical.”

              Hicks touched the flag Carter had just placed in the ground. “That’s why so many people from WCA occupied countries fled to the States to join the FNF,” He said. “Hell, a lot of the FNF troops came from countries with governments that were already socialistic or even totalitarian. But they didn’t want to be citizens of the world; they were Polish, Japanese, Kenyan or whatever nationality that they claimed, and weren’t going to be told otherwise. The old school globalists were right; nationalism was the biggest obstacle to their goals. But nationalism,
patriotism
, is a thing of the soul; it’s not a love of a place, it’s a love of the character and of the spirit of the people who live in that place. It’s a part of a person that’s damned hard to remove. But the globalists are willing to kill as many people as it takes to remove it from everyone. With nations abolished, there is nothing to check the WCAs power accept the United States and the FNF.”   

              “And now the WCA has to crush us,” Carter concluded

              “It has to try,” Hicks corrected. “It has to try.”

                [][][]

              The eternally annoying beeping of the alarm woke Carter at zero four thirty. Monica stirred next to him, snuggling against his back as he reached to silence the alarm. He lay back on the bed and she moved closer, resting her head on his chest. He hugged her to him and caressed her arm; reluctant to remove himself from her warmth. For the first time in his life, he was completely content. He closed his eyes and tried to write the moment deliberately on his memory. He savored her warmth, the smoothness of her skin, the smell of her perfume and, most of all, the sheer rightness he felt. In that moment, when they both faced probable death, he had found his first true contentment. Carter was sure that any poet of ancient Greece would have found inspiration in the in the irony.

              The team’s quarters were in a small dormitory once used to accommodate visiting family members of wounded soldiers who required long periods of recuperation. It was nearby the hospital and well maintained. This made it well suited for use by the team as they prepared for the para-gene activation procedure. Carter had returned there with Monica after spending several hours touring the capitol city.

              They had spent the night in Monica’s quarters, and Carter had brought a change of clothes and a shaving kit from his room. The rooms the team had been provided were spartan but comfortable, private, and equipped with individual showers. The bed was actually too small for two people, but could accommodate a couple if they were on intimate terms.

              “Time to get moving,” he said, opening his eyes to find hers half closed.

              “Five more minutes like this,” she pleaded sleepily.

              “Five more minutes like this and I’ll decide that we shouldn’t go through the procedure and run away with you,” he retorted, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

She slowly rose to her knees and embraced him from behind; he could feel her bare skin against his. “Where would we run to?” she asked, kissing him lightly on his ear.

              “How about the New Zealand Corporate Exclusion Zone,” Carter replied, sipping water from a glass that had been on the night stand. “We could get security jobs for one of the corporations and live the easy life,” he said, turning his head and placing a playful kiss on the end of her nose.

              “I’m for it; let’s go,” she said.

              Carter stood. “Let’s see if the Atkinson and his people can kill us before we desert.”

              He picked up a small duffle bag from under the bed. “I’m hitting the shower. You need to get motivated, Captain,” he told her, pointing at her in mock admonition.

              Carter had just stepped into the stream of warm water when he heard Monica enter the bathroom. He watched her shadow on the shower-curtain as she moved it to the side and stepped under the shower’s stream with him. Almost desperately, he hugged her to him, fitting as much her skin against him as he could. They held each other without speaking for some time.

              “When I signed up for the project I had nothing to lose,” he told her, brushing his lips against her wet hair. “Now that I’ve agreed to be used as a lab-rat, I find you. It’s insane.”

              Monica looked into his eyes. “Shut up,” she ordered, silencing him with a kiss. “We’ll talk later.”

                  [][][]

              Carter and Winters arrived at the team house’s commons area at zero five twenty-five, and had waited for less than a minute when Williams emerged from his room and joined them. As they had been instructed, they had dressed in sweat pants and t-shirts as though were going to engage in physical training. They would exchange the P.T. gear for hospital gowns in order to undergo the activation procedure.

              McNamara was next to arrive. He was followed closely by the rest of the team. No one spoke as they assembled. They stood in a circle in the sparsely furnished room; words seeming to be not only unnecessary, but inadequate for the emotion of the moment. Carter stood beside the door and opened it. With Williams in the lead the team left the team house one by one; Carter touching each of them on the shoulder as they passed him. Exiting the building himself, he saw General Hicks standing a short distance away at the hospital’s rear entrance.

              The day was clear and sunny. Dew was still clinging to the grass and trees, and a breeze carried away most of the hated odor emanated by hospital. At that moment one could forget that the most destructive war in human history was being waged. Nature never really cared what mankind did, Carter thought; it just went on and on while it waited for mankind to die out or kill itself off. If nature had any sentience it had to be amused by what he and his team was about to do. Evolution, it seemed, wasn’t fast enough of the United States Department of Defense; it need to be prodded into more immediate action.

              Carter saluted Hicks as they neared each other. “Good morning General,” he said.

              Hicks returned his salute, and seemed to be having difficulty speaking. “Good morning Red Team.”

              “The team is ready, General.” Carter said.

              “Damn it,” Hicks hissed, “I should have something say. I just can’t find the words.”

              Carter touched the general’s shoulder; allowing himself a rare breach of military protocol. “Sir, everything that needs to be said, has been said.”

              Breath caught in Hick’s throat; his eyes were alight with unexpressed emotion. He embraced Cater suddenly. “You’d better live through this, Doug, I can’t lose another son,” he said, his voice choked and strained. He stepped back after a moment; regaining his composure. Unable to find words himself, Carter just smiled slightly at the general.

              “Let’s get this over with,” Hicks said turning to face the team. “I’m damn proud of all of you.”

              The medical staff was silent as the team entered; words again being inadequate to the occasion. After years of war they were used to death and dying. But the certainty that two of the ten people they had been caring for over the last month would be dead in a few days that made the moment incredibly profound. The team members knew the odds. They knew that two of them would certainly die, and they were undergoing the process anyway. Worse, for the medical staff at least, all of whom were dedicated to saving lives; they would be partly responsible for those deaths. Atkinson seemed impassive as the team entered the lab; having long ago suppressed any sympathy he had for the subjects.