This is a joint effort of Cardbird and Aniwahya
General Secretary Andrew Smith was a good man, a strong man, the leader the People's Republic of North Carolina deserved. He was not too tall, or too short, and his beard made him look very dignified. He was a sexual dynamo, a man possessed of great intellect and great wit, instantly the most commanding presence in the room. When he spoke, his words were so electric and possessed of revolutionary fury that he could make men's hearts stop, and women swoon. That was the General Secretary, if you quoted the official government publications.
In reality, Comrade Smith was an inept man, a weak man. He was large and seemed not to know it, for he moved like a beached whale. His beard was ridiculous and made him look like some kind of gay wizard, he was a rather dry man, he did not perform any speeches, he was not a great leader like Stalin or Mao, he was simply a secretary, generally. Still, he was the de facto head of the party.
As he sat in his office in the Raleigh Governor Mansion, Andrew reflected that things were not going too well for his government. Revolution in the north, revolution in the south, soldiers streaming in from Florida, support coming from Louisiana, and now the blasted British were doing airstrikes. Yes, his position could be better, but it could be quite a bit worse. He still had time, he still had a choice, but a choice that would have to be made soon.
He sat in his office, stamping orders and legislation. It was important to continue trivial things, like roadworks, or fixing water pipes. The populace would be calmed by them. They would think that, surely, the government wouldn't be wasting their time on roadworks if they weren't assured of victory in this ideological struggle.
His own secretary, the General Secretary's secretary, brought him in his coffee, just the way he liked it. That calmed him. Really, Florida wasn't some superpower, the Cajuns couldn't provide much aid, and the British would soon be kicked out by other American states.
His coffee was nearly done when the report came in. Fort Bragg had been hit by a series of British airstrikes, and the rebels were streaming towards it. Damn Francis Horatio Cornwallis, damn Vance Ventroply, damn Mary Jonathan, and most of all, damn Joseph Madison and Samuel Ashe.
This was it, then. He would have to make his choice. Relocate to another city with his government, or surrender.
There was still a chance for something else, he realized. White Peace. He'd let the rebels take what they'd taken so far, and he'd get to keep the rest, no more bloodshed, hopefully, maybe.
He would get his people to arrange a meeting with Samuel Ashe, hopefully in Raleigh, but likely in a neutral town. This had to work, if not, his government, and the communists, would come crashing down. He could not allow that to happen, and by God, he would not allow that to happen.
Commander Samuel Ashe sat at a table with a map of North Carolina sitting on top of it, with small colored pins representing different forces and battlements. A young sergeant came bursting into his tent, "Commander, Andrew Smith has arrived for the talks." Samuel motioned with his right hand to send him as he glared at the map before him.
The plump Andrew Smith walked into the tent, sweat beating down his brown and his hands shaking. He wasn't a battle hardened soldier, he was a statesman and lawyer whose whole life was dedicated to the trade unions.
"Mr. Smith, thanks for coming. Please have a seat." Commander Ashe said, pointing at the old wooden chair in the corner. Ashe didn't even look at him, showing no respect for the weak excuse for a man who was way over his head.
"You know what this map is Smith? This map is your little force surrounded on all sides by a coalition of liberty loving patriots. Your communist plan has failed, do you know what state this is? We are North fucking Carolina! How long did you think the people would allow your rouse to continue?" Ashe said as he walked closer to the General Secretary.
"Our ancestors fought and bled for the liberties that we hold dear, and we are fighting again today against a new threat. That threat is a communist government that wishes to steal away our freedoms and bond our children with chains in your government controlled society. Well I be damned if I let that happen!" Ashe said, pulling a nine inch blade from it's sheath on his hip.
"Wa .. waa... What are you going to do with that?!" Smith said, as he shook with fear, not able to move from his chair.
Commander Samuel Ashe moved closer, touching the blade to Smith's cheek. He let the blade slide down his torso and let it rest on his inner though between smith's legs. Smith's pants went wet with urine and a foul smell filled the air as he shit himself. Ashe knew he had him, and handed him the phone.
"Call your commanders now, tell them you have negotiated your surrender. Tell them that you have lost the war!" Ashe said as he continued to hold the blade between Smith's legs.
The communist guard surrendered that evening, and the revolutionary forces moved into Raleigh. All those who participated on the Communist side were arrested and questioned and are awaiting trial.
And with that, words ended the Carolina Revolution. The power of the people, their rights to freedom and liberties, the strength of Carolina spirit, were all saved that day.. with simple words.
Nincsenek megjegyzések:
Megjegyzés küldése