“Daniel, you cannot do this,” Mikaso said earnestly. “Samar and Mindanao will not join your revolution — they will fight your annexation, resist your attempt to overthrow them, and split themselves off from the rest of the Philippines altogether—”
. “Yes. Vice President Samar is proving to be difficult,” Teguina admitted. Jose Trujillo Samar, Second Vice President of the Philippines, was the governor of the state of Mindanao. “But once the city of Davao falls, Mindanao will be ours as well.”
Mikaso sat back in the chair behind his desk, trying to absorb everything Teguina was saying. This was insane. Teguina had taken the nuclear detonation and allowed the Philippines to be raped by it. His entire country — the nation he loved and served — was evaporating before his eyes. Even its very form of government. He had to stop this, had to buy himself some time…
… had to stop Teguina.
But he needed time. Moments, if nothing else.
“Daniel,” Mikaso said, “what about these Chinese troops here? How do they fit into your master plan?”
“Glad you asked, Mikaso,” Teguina said smugly. He motioned to the officer in the helmet and blue bulletproof jacket. “This is Admiral Yin Po L’un, commander of the Spratly Island flotilla, the fleet that your traitorous soldiers bombed and strafed three nights ago. As a fellow Communist, he has agreed — with the full support of the People’s Republic of China, communicated to us from Beijing by Ambassador Dong — to assist in establishing my new regime. In exchange I have granted the Chinese Navy complete ownership of illegitimate Philippine holdings in the Spratly Islands. I have also authorized them access to our ports on Palawan and, once the rebel military forces have been eliminated, the naval base at Zamboanga and the airfields at Cebu and Davao. They will also have access to the former American military bases at Subic Bay and Angeles…”
“You’re giving the Chinese
“It is already being done, Mikaso,” Teguina said.
“Not if I can help it,” Mikaso said, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out a pistol he’d kept there for years.
But it was too late.
Several Type 56 automatic rifles, variants of the Soviet AK-47 assault rifle, swung in his direction and someone fired. Mikaso jerked from the impact of the shot and slumped over the desk before finally collapsing on the floor.
Teguina stood staring at the assassinated President, his mouth slightly agape. He had never meant to kill Mikaso, simply arrest him and have him confined. He continued to stare at the body and realized his breathing was labored. He felt a tap on the shoulder.
“Comrade President…” Admiral Yin said, a slight smile on his face.
Teguina had never heard those words before. The reality was dawning on him. Within a few seconds he had become the new President of the Republic of the Philippines — no, the President of the New Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo. He liked the sound of that — President of the Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo. It was a name that recalled the glory days, the days of fervent revolutionaries like Emilio Aguinaldo, a peasant farmer who rose to become the leader of a nation over two world superpowers, Spain and the United States. No matter that Aguinaldo was finally captured by General Funston, capitulated, and swore allegiance to America — it was his indomitable spirit that survived. It would become the rallying cry for a new nation. The Republic of Aguinaldo. The name sounded perfect.
The body in a brown suit had been hastily covered with a tablecloth and was carried out by Chinese soldiers. “Wait!” Teguina shouted. “I want the badge.” He pointed to his lapel, then motioned to the body that had been taken away. A Chinese officer went out, returning a few seconds later with the Philippine Badge of Honor. Teguina’s eyes registered dark stains spattered across the officer’s fingers, but ignored them as he pinned the Badge of Honor to his own lapel. The doors to the President’s office were closed by the Chinese troops, and Daniel Francisco Teguina set about the task of planning the important next steps to consolidating his power.
The President was at his desk, staring out of one of the bullet-resistant polycarbonate windows looking into the Rose Garden, when the men were ushered in. He didn’t even look up. His mind was on something more personal, more immediate than whatever brought the gentlemen in for this next appointment. Secretary of State Dennis Danahall and the President’s Chief of Staff, Paul Cesare, were standing near the President’s desk.
The President’s secretary ushered General Curtis into the Oval Office. Curtis had been summoned for a meeting with the NSC and the President.
