But That I Loved Rome More

Well done, make one of the worst days in modern American history even worse. Though some would say he was pretty much in charge at that time anyways.

Bush was no more a puppet to his Vice-President than Clinton. Those who claim otherwise are simply being vindictive.

Let's see where this goes.
 
September 18, 2001
10.22am


“Tell me about Pakistan.”

President Cheney sat at the head of a table in the White House Situation Room, facing General Hugh Shelton, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Around the table also sat the National Security Advisor, Vice President, Secretaries of State and Defense, director of the CIA, and other uniformed members of the Joint Chiefs. In the half darkness of the room, satellite imagery of Afghanistan and northwest Pakistan was visible projected onto the wall.

“Our primary targets, Mister President,” replied General Shelton, “would be in the Waziristan region, as well as tribal areas to the north.” He pointed at the satellite imagery of the mountainous terrain in the area. “We’re confident that the place is crawling with camps.” The CIA director followed up;
“Our intelligence backs this up; if we tighten our grip on Afghanistan, plenty of Al-Qaeda fighters will slip through our fingers and head into Pakistan. If we hit northwest Pakistan on the same day, with air strikes and deployment of special forces, we can stop them slipping across the border.”

President Cheney glanced at his Secretary of State. Colin had looked quietly irritated throughout the whole discussion.
“Colin, your thoughts?” the President asked, his voice slimy with condescension.
“Well, uh, Mister President…” there was a pause. The Secretary of State must have known he was facing a hostile crowd. “Pakistan is, hopefully, an ally in this coming war and bombing their territory without even consulting them beforehand is-” the President interrupted him.
“-Colin, Pakistan’s crawling with just as many bomb makers and, fucking, Microsoft Flight Simulator subscribers as Afghanistan.” There was a chuckle from around the room. “I don’t believe for a second that some of those assholes haven’t made it into high places. If we consult them, and then someone leaks it to one of their pals in Kabul, what then? Our whole mission is screwed.” The Secretary of State tried to retaliate.
“Yes, Mister President, but if this conflict drags on then Pakistan is going to be our most important ally, and souring the relationship by firing the starting gun at their head-” again, interrupted.
“-thank you Colin.” The President pointed back to General Shelton. “General, so we hit Pakistan, but what is it we hit?” The General clicked a button in the hand-held remote he was holding and the slide changed, to show several dozen small red dots spread across northwest Pakistan.
“These, sir, are what we’ve identified so far. Camps, ammo dumps, potential escape routes, cave complex on either side of the border.”
“Alright, now we’re aware this is gonna have to be as close to apocalypse as you get without nukes, right?” asked the President. He sensed some hesitancy. “Look, guys, I don’t see how we avoid a protracted ground war in the mountains, and it’s the Tora Bora I’m worried about, unless we utterly decapitate these guys. It’s not enough to just hit a handful of targets each day, we have to treat them like this is Operation Linebacker, round three.” The National Security Advisor, Condoleezza Rice, spoke up.
“Mister President, are you suggesting we level Kabul?”
“No! No, no, no, I’m suggesting we level every single camp, every single cave, everything that gives off even the slightest impression of being used by the enemy, either side of the border. I know there’ll be plenty of liberals on a caffeine rush whining about fallen trees or whatever, but they’ll grow back. The World Trade Center ain’t gonna grow back.” The Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld, spoke up.
“What you’re asking for, Mister President, can be done but it’d require a far bigger commitment from the air than we’re currently planning.” Cheney sighed.
“Then up the commitment. You let me worry about funding and politics and shit. Once we get the Patriot Resolution passed, we can act with impunity against whoever we like.” The turn to speak returned to General Shelton.
“Don’t worry sir, we can get it done. As the Secretary of Defense said, the problem is lack of air power but that can be rectified.”

Colin Powell once again spoke up.
“Mister President, if I may…?” he asked impatiently. Cheney gestured to him non-committally.
“You may,” he replied.
“We know Bin Laden’s in Afghanistan, but if we don’t at least demand the government hand him over, regardless of how unlikely that may be, we run the risk of looking like aggressors, and making this war more controversial than it needs to be. If we appeal for them to make handovers, it plays far more into the ‘justice and rule of law’ narrative. But if the war becomes controversial, with the heavy civilian casualties this plan you’re offering makes likely, we risk alienating much of the world. We lost a President a week ago, sir, and three thousand others. The world’s ready to tolerate some excessive force, but I don’t know how much, and I certainly don’t know how much the people of Afghanistan will tolerate before they start thinking ‘Hey, the Taliban weren’t this brutal, let’s fight in their corner.’ Meanwhile at home, the war will start to worry people, and then arguments break out, then society splits. Just like Vietnam. This is the worst possible time to start dividing America, sir. We need unity.” Cheney shot back.
“Colin, we’ve already made it plain as daylight that we’re gonna start bombing the hell out of Afghanistan. We’ve already got Delta Force hanging out in Tora Bora, and we’ve already got the Northern Alliance on the move. You know what changing our tune, and suddenly offering a way out, would look like? Backing down.” The Secretary of State looked away, trying to hide that he was briefly closing his eyes in exasperation, but the President didn’t miss it. “America wants Bin Laden dead. And so do I.”

“One last loose end that needs cutting,” he thought to himself.
 
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So how was Bush's death arranged? I do not believe in o.t.l. at least the U.S. government had anything do do with the 911 attack. In this timeline the attacks and the assassination do seem to be coordinated.
 
Interesting update. I'm eager to see how Europe (Blair's Britain included) reacts to Cheney's overreaction in Afghanistan.

Also, TTLs PATRIOT Act is going to be horrifying...
 
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He’s in a field.

It’s dark, but not too dark, like the sun went away but the light hasn’t quite gone yet.

He gets the sense that there are people around him, but he can’t see them. Yet it doesn’t trouble him.

His only worry is that he can’t smell anything. He doesn’t know why, it just worries him. Then the worry turns to anxiety.

Why can’t he do it?

He tries to speak.

Instead, red slush pours out, like crushed ice, but he can’t feel it coming out, it’s just there.

He closes his mouth. It starts coming out of his nose instead.

But it’s not slush any more.

It’s red liquid.

He knows that normally he’d know what this liquid was, but he can’t figure it out any more.

Every time he looks at it he can hear singing. The singing scares him. He turns around and tries to walk out of the field.

But there’s no boundary.

It keeps going.

It’s getting darker now.

It’s surrounding him.

But he can see figures standing around in the darkness.

He can’t identify them, but they’re looking at him.

He walks towards one, but now he’s stumbling.

He finally reaches the nearest person but they’re still pitch black, as if surrounded by darkness.

He tries to touch them.

They dissolve into black smoke.

In the far off distance he hears a sound, like a steam locomotive’s whistle.

He looks around.

The people are closer now.

He hears a plane overhead.

He looks up but sees nothing.

He turns around.

He sees only his own bloodied face, staring unblinkingly at him.


The President gasped for air, clutching at the nearest object. Slowly he recognised the familiar feeling of a mattress beneath him. Without his glasses the room was blurry, but he recognised it as the White House residence. President Cheney breathed heavily. He tried to remember the nightmare, but it was already fading. He shuddered and sat up, trying not to disturb his wife, Lynne, who slumbered next to him. He climbed out of bed, picking up his glasses and carefully putting them on. He walked to the nearby window and pulled open one of the curtains. It was dark out. He could just about see the street through the trees. It was still raining. He closed the curtains again and walked back to the bed, sitting on it. Again, he tried to remember the nightmare but it was gone. All he remembered was the sound of a plane. He heard Lynne move.
“What’s wrong, Dick?” she asked, half awake.
“I’m thinking,” was all he had to offer her.
“Thinking?” she asked, starting to sit up. The President tried to coax her back to sleep.
“Don’t, honey, don’t wake up for me, it’s okay.”
“No, Dick, what’s going on?” she insisted. Cheney was quiet for a moment.
“Am I doing the right thing?” he asked. His wife’s answer was instant.
“Absolutely. Dick, this isn’t like you, you know that. You said it yourself; you’d do whatever it takes to make the world safer. Even if it meant breaking eggs.” The President smiled.
“Those assholes in Congress think they’re hot shit,” he muttered. “Did you hear the speech that socialist rag Sanders gave yesterday? Liberals have no understanding of the price of freedom. Getting where we are now… it’s cost both of us a piece of ourselves. The people who die don’t have to live with consequences. It’s over for them.” Lynne moved across the bed and sat next to him.
“I don’t want to live in a world ruled by any other country,” she said. She repeated what the President had told her not long ago. “The only way humanity may be saved is through its own conquering. You can save the world, Dick. You can ensure this republic is the last superpower.” The President grinned, and started to play off Lynne’s energy.
“What else can rule the world besides democracy?” he asked. “Communism from China? Islamism from Iran? Fucking…”
“Socialism from Europe?” Lynne asked.
“Right! I will not let this country fall into second place. Not to anyone. We’re the best chance for a free humanity.”
“You don’t have to convince me, Dick. You have to convince the world.”
“And I will. Whatever it takes.”
 
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September 22, 2001
14.58pm


The President was enjoying the fanfare. Surrounded by excavation vehicles still digging up the ruins of the towers, President Cheney stood on the roof of a National Guard Humvee, a giant American flag perched atop the rubble behind him while before him spread out a sea of faces, many of them covered by dust from having worked at Ground Zero for days on end. Perhaps a hundred television cameras and microphones were pointed at him. An aide stood amongst them delicately held his black jacket over his arm as the President stood atop the Humvee, sleeves rolled up, poised like Lenin over the masses.
“The whole world sees you!” he shouted into a megaphone he held in one hand, and a cheer rang out. “They see what the terrorists fear! An American spirit that can never be conquered! When they hit us, we stand up stronger!” Another cheer. “And you know what I think? I think it’s time we started hitting back!” A great roar of agreement rose up. The President smiled, observing the scene before him. He reflected on his latest approval polls. Ninety percent. That wasn’t bad. It didn’t normally happen in democracies. He wondered for a moment how long it would last.
“Long enough to get some shit done, hopefully,” he thought to himself.
“The war that we’re in isn’t just fought on battlefields!” he continued to bellow. “It’s fought in every home in every country! In a relentless struggle between decency, morality, democracy, and the evils of extremism and hatred. We beat the Nazi empire and they owned most of Europe! Who says we can’t beat the bastards who only own caves and goats?” he shouted. Another roar of appreciation, mixed with laughter. The President was enjoying this very much.
“Make no mistake, the whole world hears you! And the people who did this to us,” he continued, pointing behind him at the rubble, “will be hearing us all soon!” He stepped down onto the trunk of the Humvee before jumping down, hoping his heart wouldn’t give way, as cheering erupted and many people came forward to whack him on the shoulder or shake his hand. The President started working the crowd, letting himself get swamped by the people, enjoying the thought of how much it must be panicking the Secret Service. Plenty of people shouted encouragement at him as he shook hands and had his shoulder thumped, but it all washed over him. The President was already thinking about the future, and especially how Afghanistan fit into that future.

22.07pm

It was raining outside again. The President glanced at the files compiled by the Pentagon for the initial strike on Afghanistan. It seemed pretty good to him. A mass attack against all key Taliban installations, as well as the hidden complexes and camps in the mountains either side of the Afghan-Pakistan border. B-52s were already being prepared, though the logistics of refuelling them to and from Afghanistan was proving to be a headache for the Pentagon.
President Cheney glanced around the Situation Room, and eyed up Colin Powell, who was still flicking through the four pages of plans. He looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek. Not a good sign. The President tuned back into the Secretary of Defense, who was still lost in the flow of his briefing.
“…and many of these targets will require some heavy bunker busters to root ‘em out, but we’ll get ‘em. As you can see, we’ve already identified plenty of targets, the benefits of having an eye trained on Afghanistan for the better part of a decade. Give it a few more days, and we'll be ready to blitz the shit out of them.”
“What targets are you hitting in Kabul?” asked Colin.
“Airports, airfields, any government building we can get our hands on,” replied Donald. “a decapitation strike in one quick swoop, knock ‘em down faster than throwing a cluster bomb at some bowling pins.” The President smiled. Colin looked unconvinced, as per usual. He turned to President Cheney.
“Mister President, I can’t suggest anything that’ll be more likely to get Bin Laden, but does this not sound somewhat over the top?”
“Not at all, Colin,” replied the President, adjusting his glasses. “We’re not facing a conventional army here, we’re facing a nation of insurgents. The kind of soldiers who make the caves and mountains their natural habitat.” Donald was nodding in the background. “Now if the inside of a house’s wall is invested with roaches, would you have gas sprayed into the wall?” he asked.
“Sure, Mister President,” said Colin reluctantly, unsure where this was going.
“Well I wouldn’t,” replied the President. “If you spray gas in, how can you be sure you got them all? Only takes one to repopulate the whole nest once again. I’d have the whole wall knocked down. The wall can be rebuilt. And that’s our plan; knock down the nation of insurgents, and rebuild it as a real, genuine republic. I know you think all our current talk of freedom makes us sound like jingoistic screaming hicks-”
“-no, Mister President, I don’t, I just think we need to be more rational.”
“So do I! What’s more rational than the belief that a democratic country is a better country? Especially when you’re talking about a country which produced the ideologies that covered New York in dust? Name me a democratic country we’ve been at war with in the last hundred years.” There was silence. “That’s my point. Afghanistan is just the beginning. It’s the seed we’re planting, and it’s gonna bloom. And if we’ve gotta pour some water on a few countries to help those seeds grow…”
“What’re you getting at, Mister President?” President Cheney was quiet for a moment, before standing and walking to the foot of the table, to the large map of Central Asia projected onto the wall.

“What I’m getting at, Colin, is that we’re the most powerful country in the history of mankind. And as luck would have it, we’re also the greatest democracy in the history of mankind too. So I ask you, is that worth defending?” There was a murmur of agreement. “But I say it’s worth more than just defending. It’s worth promoting. Whether by sword or by olive branch, we’ve got to seize the opportunity before it disappears.” He pointed to China on the map. “Fifteen years from now, it could be these guys. They’ll be the new capital of the world. Why should they be? Why should the world begin bowing to a dictatorship? We saw what happens once already when half the world follows the lead of dictators, and it threatened our entire species with annihilation. And it’s not just China, it’s Russia too. They’ll both rise. We all know Russia isn’t a real democracy, and a rising country that isn’t a democracy is a rising threat.”
“Are you suggesting we wage war on Russia and China?” asked Colin.
“Not necessarily,” replied President Cheney. That response didn’t give Colin comfort. “But I am suggesting that history shows a very clear pattern. If two countries become too powerful, and they are built on opposing ideologies, war is inevitable. We dodged a bullet with the Soviets, but will we dodge the next one? We can’t let our republic, this country which is the best chance in human history of leading mankind into the light of true democracy and freedom, fall into second place. We can’t recede. So,” he pointed back at Afghanistan, “it starts here. And from there, we progress.” His hand moved to point at nearby Iraq. “Sooner or later, Saddam will fall. Why not make it sooner? The people of Iraq cry out for us to save them, to free them. We know he’s a threat to us anyway. So now we have two seeds. Two new republics, built in our image. And then…” he pointed to the east of Iraq, “…Iran.” He smiled. “This is where it culminates. We would have created a sparkling new Middle East. A democratic one. Once we have Iraqi and Iranian oil flowing in, we won’t need any from the Saudis. They’ll run dry, and soon riots will be on the streets, even in Mecca, and not long after that the Saudi people will have made their own republic. They won’t even need us to bomb them to help persuade them.” Donald and the Vice President both laughed.

“And what of Russia and China?” asked Colin sheepishly.
“AEGIS will deal with that,” replied the President. “We’ll pump in all the money needed to create an umbrella, over ourselves and our allies, which will be able to shoot down any incoming ICBMs. Nuclear weapons themselves will be rendered obsolete. Reagan was never serious about doing this, it was just a ploy to frighten the Soviets. Well, I’m deadly serious. Once AEGIS is operational, we’ll be on equal terms with Russia and China conventionally. And when we’re on equal terms conventionally…” he laughed, and looked up, towards the Vice President. Paul Wolfowitz smiled, and nodded. “…we can’t lose.”
 
Good update, Star Eater. I have a mental image of Cheney breaking down into villainous laughter at the end of this.
 
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