Free Warlords race for power while the final battle looms! (Swords Versus Tanks Book 4) by M Harold Page Page A

scowled and made to protest, but Hamilton got there first. "These to be led by Tank Majors promoted to Colonels, no doubt."
    "No," said Jasmine. "By whoever they elect."
    "But who will they answer to?" asked Hamilton.
    "Yes," said Woodsman and looked surprised. He scowled at the smaller man, as if blaming him for their agreement.
    “Me,” said Jasmine.
    "You two men might be blinded by self interest," said General Ibis-Bear. "But I think these reforms make sense." She rearranged her wreath of charms and worry beads.
    "I’m glad you understand," said Jasmine. In truth she would probably use Woodsman as a deputy, but only once she'd made him accept her authority. "If I might continue?
    "Item: Artillery to train with solid shot fired line-of-sight. Post Office Security Workers – since they excel at hand-to-hand-combat — to be assigned to each team for last ditch defence."
    "Use my artillery pieces as glorified carbines!" Ibis-Bear practically shrieked. "Never!"
    "Put my people in the front line!" Hamilton thumped the table. "Over my dead body!"
    Jasmine folded her arms. "Those are my proposals. Reject or accept them in their entirety. All those in favour, please raise your right hand."
    Not a single hand raised.
    "Against?"
    Ibis-Bear coughed and fiddled with her worry beads. "I think, my dear," she said, "that though we are happy for you to provide leadership in these troubled times, it would be best if you would be guided by older, wiser heads."
    Hamilton held up his hands. "That was not my reasoning at all."
    Ibis-Bear glared at him.
    The Postmaster General smiled ingratiatingly. "Some discussion is required before the implementation of such sweeping changes. Perhaps they could be integrated with my proposed reorganisation?"
    “Ah yes,” said Jasmine. "Each unit to have an assigned Post Office Political Delivery Worker. Every commander to have a bodyguard of Post Office Security Workers. Oh, and tanks combined with their own infantry to be constituted as a separate arm under, now let me guess, the Post Office… can you see why I might be reluctant to give you your own army –" She held up two fingers on each hand to mimic quotation marks. "'General' Hamilton – not least because you aren't really a soldier?"
    Woodsman shifted uncomfortably, as if remembering the inconvenient fact for the first time. The Infantry General might think aggression was a good substitute for tactics, but he had a healthy dislike for red tape and party hacks.
    One down.
    "Surely we can be consensual, Field Marshal," said Ibis-Bear. "There is a Golden Mean."
    "A compromise, you mean?" asked Jasmine.
    The big woman leaned forward and confided, "There's no need to get sucked into patriarchal power games."
    "But could you really compromise between – say…" Jasmine recalled Ibis-Bear's notoriously bad theatrical production. "- burning a witch, and revering her?"
    "A half-charred half-worshipped witch, is still a dead crone," said Woodsman, and laughed.
    Ibis-Bear frowned.
    "And a half-defeated army, is still a defeated one," said Jasmine. "With no chance of liberating the…" What did the old madwoman call them? "…Earth Priestesses."
    Ibis-Bear’s eyes lit up. "So you do know about the terrible fate in prospect for Maud Clifford, Serene High Priestess of the All-Mother?"
    Jasmine blushed and fought down an un-Field-Marshal-like giggle.
    Thankfully, Ibis-Bear was fiddling with her amulets. She sighed. "You have the certainty of youth, my dear. But perhaps also its wisdom."
    Two down.
    "This farce has progressed as far as I shall allow it," said Hamilton. "You, Jasmine, are nothing without my support, and I withdraw it." He twisted to address his Security Workers. "Arrest her."
    "On what charge?" asked Jasmine, rising.
    "Oh, I shall think of someth-"
    The Stormgun came easily to Jasmine’s hands. She shot from the hip, the recoil flung her half around.
    Hamilton's head simply exploded, showering brains and skull fragments onto the