Anthony DeCosmo - Schism

The result? California survived. No easy task, particularly when the rest of the country descended into chaos ruled either by aliens overtly enslaving human survivors or dangerous wilderness with no laws, no organization, and no hope.

On long nights when the faces of the former Governor and others who had been in front of Malloy in the line of succession haunted his sleep, he admitted to himself that, yes, his embracing of Witiko ideals served as much his self-interest as the interest of California. Yet he also knew one truth: the peace deal had stopped the fighting.

In the years since, human and aliens rid the cities and suburbs of dangerous predators, re-established industry, and built a functioning society.

Certainly that society lacked perfection. The human population in California shrank with a slow but steady drop in life expectancy and a low birth rate. Malloy and his people agreed with D’Trayne that the best hope for prosperity lay with a smaller population base.

The Governor dropped his eyes to a closer sight: tents and tables cluttering a parking lot across the street. Lines of people waited for their portion from pots of bubbling stew made with vegetables, fish, wild game, and lots of water. Dinner time at the "Municipal Feeding Station."

Malloy felt a vague sense of pride in the station. These people lived. If the war with the Witiko had gone on, they probably would have been killed. The Governor did not buy Trevor Stone’s explanation that it had been the Witiko-not California-in danger of losing that war.

No, Malloy felt that his decision to seek peace, to share power, to accept new (alien) ideas resulted in survival for Californians while the rest of the world died. It was mere coincidence that doing the right thing helped make his life easier.

While food lines were not new, something else down there was: the presence of cameramen. Such pictures had not been transmitted across the state before the invasion by Trevor’s "Empire." To do so, Malloy believed, would merely hurt morale and paint an unflattering picture of life in The Cooperative. In contrast, with the start of the new war images of breadlines, homeless citizens, and poorly-functioning hospitals served a purpose, especially when subjecting the context of those images to heavy editing. As a life-long politician, Malloy understood the value of propaganda.

He sighed and walked away from the view.

Four men in fine suits and one woman in a business skirt hovered around several banquet tables. A half-dozen guards stood at the entrances to the Tower Room bearing assault rifles and dressed in black coveralls. No sign of any Witiko, officer or otherwise.

Witiko or no, so few people gathered in a room meant to hold so many did not sit well with the Governor. The emptiness of the chamber made him feel small.

A young courier hustled in. He wore a muddy uniform and sported bruises and cuts on his face and forearms.

"One of The Empire’s dreadnoughts is approaching. Spotters identify it as the Philippan. It’s out by San Bernardino. My commander sent a message to the airport."

Malloy knew the courier meant his commander had tried yet again to get the Witiko Cruisers at LAX to engage the approaching threat. The Governor also knew that with the regular air force destroyed, the Stingrays did not desire to engage the dreadnoughts head on, despite the advantages of their radar cloak. Apparently the mighty Witiko preferred the company of human jets as cannon fodder when flying into battle.

"I see," the Governor spoke. "What am I supposed to do?"

Malloy surveyed his gathered advisors and focused on his Minister of Defense, a diminutive man in his mid-forties with scruff on his cheeks and a balding head.

During the Witiko War, that man served as a soldier in a regular army unit. But when his commanding officer refused to recognize the peace treaty, that officer disappeared, the unit fell into line, and the subordinate who had made all that possible received an appointment to lead a new Defense Department.

Malloy asked, "Minister Snowe, what is the military situation?"

Snowe said, "The attack coming up from the south is moving on Long Beach. They’ll take it sometime in the morning, we think. We don’t know what the dreadnought is up to, but I doubt it will fly downtown."

A fifty-something woman with thinning hair and a sharp nose who served as the Secretary of Family Planning questioned, "Why? Can the Stingrays hold it off?"

Snowe answered, "No. But The Empire knows we have surface to air missiles and artillery batteries that are effective against dreadnoughts. Besides, a direct assault on downtown L.A. would lead to a lot of civilian casualties, and we don’t think they want that."

"This is true," Malloy said. "But so far our public relations campaign has not borne fruit. What is Gannon doing over there? I have not heard from him in over a week."

The assistant Director of Information loosened his striped tie and spoke, "Gannon has made a lot of friends among the Imperial Senate, particularly our ally Mr. Godfrey."

"For all his talk, Godfrey has done me little good."

The Information Director continued, "Well, it appears Godfrey has friends in their Internal Security apparatus. We have received a recommendation that when the time comes, we surrender to their Internal Security units, not regular military. I understand a number of Witiko officers have already been taken into custody by them."

The Secretary of Family Planning jumped at the word ‘surrender’ in a tone that suggested the idea intrigued her: "Surrender? Are we talking like that yet?"

Governor Terrance Malloy ran his hand over his head and sighed.

"I may not have any other choice. Our forces are being pushed back."

Snowe countered, "We’ve got five thousand troops in San Diego that are fresh and haven’t been used. We’ve got another fifteen hundred or so veteran troops outside of Monterey. Some of those are the guys who gave the Imperials a good pasting outside of Stockton last week. We can count on them. They’re not going down without a fight."

"Ah yes, I remember the type," Malloy mused, thinking of Snowe's CO who preferred to die fighting than bargain with aliens.

Snowe finished, "If we can drag this out longer, maybe we can win the PR battle. Maybe there'll be enough pressure on Stone to pull back. Or, negotiate something favorable."

The Governor considered the situation. His forces no longer held any kind of strategic front, only isolated islands with lines of communication nearly cut. By morning he would no longer have the ability to command forces beyond the Los Angeles city limits and those limits appeared destined to shrink. The Witiko, for all their high talk, appeared to have abandoned the effort after the Barstow generator went down.

Where is D’Trayne?

If they continued to fight, the additional blood on Trevor Stone’s hands might be enough to gain Malloy a sympathy card to play, but he doubted he could play that hand into any power or authority. At best, maybe a comfortable retirement.

Surrendering now could save thousands of Cooperative soldiers and leaders. They would become citizens of this Empire, in one form or another. If he made the right speech, maybe framing himself as a peace broker interested in the greater good, if those loyalists channeled their devotion into a political movement inside The Empire, maybe he would have a chance. A long shot, but a much better shot than the military situation. "I will prepare a communique. I will end this fight to save lives on both sides." The Secretary of Family Planning said, "Governor, how very far-sighted of you."

A harsh beeping grabbed the attention of Defense Minister Snowe. He produced a communicator of Witiko design and walked away from the gathering to better hear the message.