One-Bottle Coup [fanfic in the Tankiverse]

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

The One-Bottle Coup

Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii

 
As far as coups go, the first several hours had gone swimmingly. So far, not a shot had been fired, although that could hardly be expected to last. The city, the Capitol, all of the major government buildings, the media outlets, and the major data centers were all besieged. For this, tanks were perfect.
 
Inside those places were a handful of corrupt officials, a healthy dose of defensive troops, and a veritable sea of innocent civilian workers. Someone had to go in there and try to remove the corruption without sacrificing loyal soldiers or killing hapless office workers. For this, tanks were not so good.
 
That the Tank Corps was his to command, the general had no doubt. He personally knew every officer above the rank of captain, and had no doubt that those who had risen to positions of leadership in his corps would share his vision and follow his lead.
 
Where there were tanks, there were infantry. Many of those commanders he knew as well, but he lacked the strong ties that bound members within a service. Across the entire war, his commanders were talking earnestly with their infantry counterparts, trying to enlist their support.
 
Problem was, the Leadership was not being idle. True, they were besieged, but their infrastructure was intact. Short of destroying the facilities, the general could not stop them from using any of a dozen methods of communication with units in the field. He actually pitied the infantry commanders. In one ear, they were receiving orders from high up the chain of command, telling them that the Tank Corps commanders were traitors and needed to be restrained or destroyed. In the other ear, the officers whom they had fought alongside during the course of this abominable war were telling them that their duty lay in the removal of the lawfully-elected Leadership. Not a position the general envied, and one he genuinely regretted having to place them in.
 
The cell phone felt cool against his ear. He counted the rings. What would he say, he wondered, if it went through to voicemail?
 
“General Patton, as I live and breathe!” snarked a familiar voice at the other end. “Or maybe I should call you Rommel? Abrams? Wait, no, Zhukov!”
 
The general sighed. “Call me what you like, Georgie, but I really think we should talk. Do you want to work through the entire history of notable tankers first? Or can we maybe move past the litany of sarcasm?”
 
There was a lengthy silence. “Tell you what, Georgie. I’m going to set up a field table in the plaza out front. I’ll be there with our very best friend until you show up or not. Hope to see you.”
 
The general pocketed his phone. “Kevin?” he called.
 
A young officer poked his head through the door. “Yes, sir?”
 
“Run out to my tank, and tell Mira I need the bottle. Then tell her ‘No, the special bottle.’ Then tell her ‘No, the other special bottle.’ Got it?
 
“Bottle, special bottle, other special bottle. Roger.”
 
“Great. Do we have a portable table and a couple of field chairs handy?”
 
“Of course, sir. Shall I get those as well?”
 
“No, just point the way. I can manage.”
 
A few minutes later, the general had set up his small table and two chairs in the middle of People’s Plaza facing the Capitol.  On one side, his tanks were arrayed. On the other loomed a triumph of modern architecture. On any other day, this plaza would have been crowded with people. People going places, people enjoying the sun and a coffee, people shopping, people doing business, people having fun, people in love. But today was not any other day.
 
Kevin approached and handed the general a small wooden box, saluted, then walked away. The general opened it gently, almost reverentially. Inside was a bottle of whisky. The brand was pedestrian; the year, unremarkable. It was a fine enough whisky, the sort of thing a recruit could not quite afford to buy. There was nothing whatsoever special about its pedigree. Its history, though, was shared only by a handful of soldiers; a short list of names represented by faded signatures scrawled on its sides.
 
It was getting hot. The general got up and moved his table into the shade of the Capitol. True, he was no longer centered in the plaza, thus messing up the aesthetics of this historical meeting (if it happened), or his assassination (much more likely), but he didn’t care to add sunburn to his current catalog of woes. He went back for the chairs, then sat down to watch the front of the building.
 
Aides came and went, bringing him dispatches that required his immediate attention. His phone and laptop were rarely idle. As the sun dipped closer to the horizon, he took his rations there. He did leave once, for a couple of minutes, but when nature calls, nature calls. Still, the general was a tanker, and he knew a thing or two about spending long hours on uncomfortable chairs.
 
It was nearly sunset when the front doors opened. Tall, proud, and the image of a national hero, General Georgina Olson strode from the building. The general stood and moved out from behind the table. They stood facing each other.
 
Gods above, she was lovely! The years had been kind; the general wouldn’t have credited it back then, but she was even hotter now than when they had served together on what they laughingly called “The Whisky Occupation.”
 
“General.” He saluted, and she responded. He stepped forward, arms expanding for an embrace, but she halted him with a stern “Wait!” She turned in a slow circle, right hand held high, two fingers extended. “Sorry, a girl can’t be too careful!” With that, she fell into his arms, and they enjoyed the long, enthusiastic embrace that only shared romance or shared adversity can inspire.
 
“Snipers?”
 
“Dozens.” She laughed and glanced over his shoulder. “Tanks?”
 
“Seemed fair.”
 
They sat down across from each other, the bottle in the middle of the table. Georgina picked it up gently. “I’m happy to see that you still have it.” She turned the label to inspect it. “My signature hasn’t held up terribly well, though.”
 
“Cheap pen,” shrugged the general. “Do you still have yours?”
 
“Of course. I’d have brought it with me, but I keep it at home, and I can’t exactly dash across town to get it, can I?”
 
“I can send a driver for it, if you’d like.”
 
She smiled. “Yes, I think I’ll be needing it.”
 
He glanced inquiringly at the rooftop. She nodded, stood, and held up her left hand, one finger raised. He waved for Kevin to approach. She gave the aide careful instructions, to which the general added “Kevin, that bottle is important. Hear me.” before allowing him to depart.
 
She reached across the table for his hand; he took it. “It’s so good to see you again, Fred.”
 
“You too, Georgie. You too. I really can’t believe how beautiful you are.”
 
This woman, this general, this leader of soldiers and shaper of national policy, actually blushed and giggled at the compliment.
 
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long, Fred. I’d have been down hours ago, right after you called, but I had to set things straight with the Leadership.”
 
“Can’t imagine they’re pleased you decided to come.”
 
“They’re not. The ‘great man’ flew into a tizzy. Minister Warez actually laid hands on me to stop me from walking out the door.”
 
Fred chuckled. “Whadja break?”
 
She laughed with him. “Just his pinky.” Then she frowned. “Actually, I’m not positive it broke. I may just have dislocated it.” She shrugged. “Persuading them to let me go was easier than ensuring your safety. I have more soldiers guarding against unauthorized assassination attempts than I do snipers protecting me!”
 
“I appreciate the consideration,” he said wryly.
 
“I hope it wasn’t wasted.” She eyed the sky meaningfully. “They could well call in an airstrike, just kill us both. I control the Army; I have little say over the Air Corps.”
 
Fred shrugged. “Let’s hope they have the common courtesy to wait until we’re drunk!”
 
 
 

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

Edited October 17, 2018 by Hippin_in_Hawaii

[Blackdrakon30 2,943]

- Minor changes ("As yet" -> "So far," etc)

- Some word choice edits designed to make writing more fluid, less repetitive,   ("This, tanks were good for." -> "For this, tanks were perfect." "Laughingly glanced" ->  "Laughed and glanced," etc)

- Removed some unnecessary words to make writing more concise.

- Changed one comma to a semicolon.

 

Approved

 

 

Yet another well-written piece. I really enjoyed the interactions between Georgina and Fred; they had a very entertaining relationship that I'd love to hear more about. Additionally, the "memento whiskey" was a good plot device that was nice and unique. I do feel like not as much really progressed during this section as I'd have liked, but that's A-Okay.  :P  After all, not every part of a story needs to be overly aggressive progression-wise.

[r_trooll15 827]

excited. Haven't read it yet

 

read it. Even more excited

[Hate 5,582]

Excellent indeed! Keep up the good work!

[Mjro7 2,837]

woah well done ;) 
hope to see you soon here  :huh: