The Halls of Montezuma

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “Yes, sir,” General Gilbert said. He took control of the holographic projector and displayed a map. A red haze - it looked almost like a bloodstain - blurred the land. “As you can see, the marines have secured control of the corporate district and placed Roxon City in a vise. The last reports have made it clear that they’re doing their best to maintain a light footprint, but they’ve occupied the vast majority of critical targets and - therefore - have the city under effective control.”

  Julia studied him thoughtfully. General Gilbert looked as if he was already on the verge of giving up. He’d passed the stage of being reluctant to give bad news to his corporate masters. That wasn’t a good sign. Gilbert wasn’t that much older than Admiral Agate, but he looked and sounded older. If he was giving up ... she knew, all too well, that someone had to take the blame. There was no way anyone could reasonably blame Gilbert for not foreseeing the marine invasion, but ... what did reason matter when there was blame to be placed?

  The director frowned. “Are our people not resisting the invasion?”

  “We have a handful of deep-cover agents in place, who are attempting to keep us informed,” Gilbert said. “They report a considerable amount of looting, civil unrest and - worse - score-settling, but so far the marines have not faced any real resistance. The vast majority of the population is unarmed, director, and unlikely to encounter a marine even if they were. I think there will be more unrest as the marines come to grips with the problem of feeding a megacity, but that will take some time to materialise.”

  He grimaced. “The marines will also be able to make use of our population control systems,” he added. “They’ll be able to quash resistance before it becomes dangerous.”

  “I thought the systems were meant to be destroyed,” a director said. She thought she recognised him, but his name escaped her. “Why were they left intact?”

  “The computer cores were earmarked for destruction,” Gilbert said. “I believe that somewhere between sixty to eighty percent of the command and control datacores were destroyed, although it is hard to be sure. Destroying the physical monitors, on the other hand, was impossible. Given time, the marines can simply plug in their own command and control systems and reactive the physical gear. There’s very little we can do about it.”

  “Incompetence,” the director snarled.

  Julia hid her irritation. She didn’t know the director, and she was fairly sure he was light years above her, but she didn’t like him. No one had believed there would come a time when the population monitoring systems would have to be destroyed, if only to keep them from falling into enemy hands. General Gilbert could hardly be blamed for failing to destroy them during the retreat. It simply hadn’t been possible.

  “Not now.” Director Onge held up a hand, then looked at another director. “Maryanne, how are our people handling the news?”

  “We’ve instituted a complete media blackout, but there’s no way to hide either the flood of refugees making their way along the motorways or the pieces of debris falling from the skies,” Vice Director Maryanne Mayan said, grimly. “Officially, the general population knows nothing. We blacked out enough of the enemy broadcasts to keep them from reaching receptive ears. Practically, they know something is happening and rumours are spreading rapidly. People are talking, Director, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I think we need to make some kind of announcement, if only to quell fears.”

  Which might not be possible, Julia thought. How many people will side with the marines when they are offered the choice?

  “There will be panic,” Gilbert predicted. “We need to continue the call-up without incident.”

  “We’ll have to tell the population something, and quickly,” Maryanne said. “It’s only a matter of time until the datanet gets hacked.”

  “We’ll consider it later,” the director said. “General, can we stop the marines?”

  “Yes, sir,” Gilbert said. “I believe we can stop them.”

  Julia kept her face blank. Admiral Agate had said the same thing, so long ago it felt like another life. And he’d been wrong. The marines had traded space for time until they’d gotten the troops where they wanted them, then dropped the hammer. They’d effectively won the war in a single catastrophic battle.

  Gilbert indicated the map. “Right now, we expect the marines to take some time to regroup before they push onwards. They will be bringing down their troops and equipment as fast as possible, but they’re going to run up against some very hard limits. We can keep them from using the space elevator, for example, by threatening to fire on the elevator cars if we see them moving. They have cleared a corridor to the surface, to give them due credit, but they’ve shot their bolt. They cannot widen the corridor any further. This puts additional stresses and strains on their logistics. Our worst-case projections indicate it will be at least a week before they can resume the offensive.”

  Julia leaned forward. “What if they use dumpsters?”

  “We think that, if they had more dumpsters, they would have used them by now,” Gilbert said. “Dumpsters, by their very nature, are dangerous. They’re designed for equipment that can be easily replaced, not people. Using them is a dangerous gamble. The marines would understand the risk as well as we do.”

  “That didn’t stop the marines from using them,” Julia pointed out.

  “No,” Gilbert agreed. “But there comes a time when the risks outweigh the rewards.”

  He tapped the map. “They simply don’t have the forces to occupy the entire planet, so we’re assuming their goal - now they failed to capture our leadership - is to snatch or destroy the planetside industrial centuries and PDCs. If they succeed, they will win ... either directly or simply by destroying our ability to make war. Accordingly, we are settling up defence lines along the motorways - his hand traced lines on the map - and massing our forces for a counterattack. If they come at us, we’ll lure them into a maze of defences intended to bleed them white and eventually destroyed them; if they stay where they are, we’ll harass them until the fleet is reunited and then destroy their fleet. At that point” - he smiled, coldly - “their forces on the ground can surrender or die.”

  “Die,” the director said. “We have no use for them.”

  “Let us wait until we win before deciding their fate,” Thaddeus said, dryly. “General, it is imperative we drive them off-world as quickly as possible.”

  “I understand, sir,” Gilbert said. “But it takes time to call up everyone with military experience, establish defence lines and ready ourselves for the coming engagement. We will win, I believe, but it will take longer than you might think.”

  “Unless the fleet gets back sooner,” Julia said.

  “The fleet will need to be reunited first,” Gilbert said. “If the ships return one at a time, the marines will pick them off one by one. They got very lucky with the timing.”

  He paused. “Director, I would like to declare a full, planet-wide state of emergency. We need to do more than just call up everyone with military experience. We need to put everyone to work digging trenches and evacuating townships that cannot be defended, before we try to turn them into strongpoints. And we need to start handing out weapons to people who might find themselves in occupied territory.”

  “Out of the question,” a director snarled. “Do you have any idea how much trouble that would cause?”

  Julia smiled, behind her hand. Do you have any idea how much trouble a full-scale invasion will cause?

  “It will not be easy to maintain control over the population if you’re putting them to work,” Maryanne said, slowly. “They do not love us, General.”

  General Gilbert looked at her, evenly. “Hard choices must be made,” he said. “The enemy is at the gates. We must hang together or the marines will hang us separately.”

  ***

  Thaddeus was not given to hasty decisions. It was something he’d always considered a strength, although he was starting to realise it could also be a weak
ness. There was time to consider the best course of action when the enemy was light years away, but little time for contemplation when the enemy was at his throat. He’d never expected to be chased from his mansion, not without plenty of warning. He hadn’t even taken basic precautions to safeguard himself. If Julia hadn’t been there, he would have fallen into enemy hands.

  He said nothing for a long moment, allowing the directors to argue amongst themselves. He could see both sides of the argument; he could see that both sides had a point. They risked an uprising if they armed the workers, but - at the same time - they needed to arm the workers. He doubted there would be any resistance if the workers couldn’t resist. The marines would have no trouble putting the workers back to work. His lips twitched sardonically as he remembered working his way up the ranks, back when the universe had made sense. It was astonishing what people would do when they were staring down the barrel of a gun. They’d say anything, do anything, sign anything ...

  His eyes scanned the table. Julia’s opinion didn’t matter. General Gilbert was seriously outranked by the rest of the table. And the directors seemed split down the middle. Thaddeus silently assessed the situation, wondering who would be the first to try to jump ship. Someone would, in his experience. There was always someone wanting to make sure they wound up on top, even if it meant switching sides and leaving their former allies to fight alone. Who would it be? He didn’t know. He’d be surprised if the entire table wasn’t at least considering how to switch sides.

  And they’ll know how to circumvent the population control systems, he mused. The directors wouldn’t take kindly to suggestions they should be watched at all times. That was for the little people. There’s no way even to move against them unless I had solid proof they were planning to commit treason.

  “I think we don’t have a choice,” he said. “At the very least, we should start putting teenage boys to work digging trenches.”

  He sighed, inwardly. The schools were designed to turn out the next generation of corporate worker drones. Students who showed hints of rebellion were often steered into the army, the navy or - at worst - quietly sent into exile. The teenagers who were willing to fight were already in the army or earmarked for military service. He cursed Admiral Agate under his breath, not for the first time. The admiral had lost so many trained men that training up new soldiers wasn’t going to be easy.

  And if we give them guns without proper training and indoctrination, he thought, they might turn on us instead.

  “Yes, sir,” Gilbert said. “However, we will require far more manpower than we have on hand ...”

  “Start drawing up plans to conscript more,” Thaddeus ordered. He looked at the map. “We cannot let the marines keep tearing through our defences.”

  “I understand,” Gilbert said.

  Do you? Thaddeus kept his face impassive. Sooner or later, something is going to break.

  He looked at Vice Director Vincent Adamson. “Draw up an announcement to the general population,” he said. “Make sure you convince them that the situation is serious, but is being handled. We don’t want them getting the idea we’re going to lose. And start preparing them for enemy propaganda. The marines will get their message into the datanet sooner or later.”

  “Perhaps we should lock down the datanet completely,” Vice Director Hayden James McManus said. “The marines have probably captured datanodes in Roxon. They can figure out how to hack the system if they haven’t already.”

  “The system limited our response to the invasion,” Gilbert said, sharply. “We had to unlock sections of the military datanet just to rally the troops. Tightening things up now will only cause further confusion and delay, at the worst possible moment.”

  “I thought it was possible to put an entirely separate military datanet together,” McManus snapped. “I was told ...”

  “Yes,” Gilbert said. “We have contingency plans. But we never anticipated having to put one together under fire ...”

  “Fucking incompetence,” McManus snapped. “If you’d been thinking ...”

  “Enough.” Thaddeus spoke quietly, but with immense force. “We don’t have time to bicker. Not now. We have too many other problems.”

  He stood. “You know what to do,” he said. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow unless something changes.”

  The meeting broke up as he headed for the door, Julia falling into place behind him. He ignored her as he contemplated his allies, wondering which one would be the first to make contact with the marines. Some of them owed their positions to him, others had been appointed by the Grand Senator himself ... he sighed, inwardly. It didn’t matter. The moment the rats decided the ship was sinking, they’d throw caution to the winds and try to get off.

  And we have to win quickly, he thought. He couldn’t avoid the thought. Or the marines may destroy our society even if we drive them off our world.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Money - in whatever form - takes the local economy to the next level. The cobbler sells his shoes, then uses the profits to pay the tanner for the leather and the farmer for food. It doesn’t matter that neither the tanner nor the farmer wants or needs shoes. All that matters is that they have something they can trade themselves.

  - Professor Leo Caesius, The Rise and Fall of Interstellar Capitalism

  “Keep working,” Commander Archer ordered. “Don’t take your eyes off the console.”

  Rachel hid her amusement as the older man stamped up and down, barking orders as if he thought his subordinates would slack off without a great deal of encouragement. She suspected that half the staffers were already working as slowly as they dared, even though there was a war on. People like Commander Archer tended to provoke resentment and hatred even when they didn’t have wandering hands. His staff might not be able to strike openly, but they’d do whatever they could to make the bastard look bad.

  Be grateful, she told herself. You don’t want someone smarter assigned to the role.

  She kept her face under tight control as she worked her way through file after file. General Gilbert was doing his level best to regroup his forces, fill in the gaps in his order of battle and prepare for the coming engagement. She had to admit he was doing a good job, although the problems of regrouping under enemy fire would have made the task hellish even without her sabotage. She’d deleted a handful of orders before they ever reached their destination, she’d added transhipment instructions to send desperately-needed supplies to the other side of the planet and carefully altered a number of files to ensure that experienced people were not called up for war. The enemy was so reliant on their datanet, she mused, that it was nothing more than a giant blindspot. She dreaded to think what would happen to any marine officer who became so dependent on something outside his control.

  Shooting would be too good for him, she mused. She’d served a term in logistics herself and she knew how easy it was for some dingbat staffer to swear blind his depot was full, even when the shelves had been stripped bare years ago. It was almost pathetically easy for a corrupt man to sell off his supplies, then lie to his superiors. The marines had learnt the hard way never to take anything on faith. People put garbage into the system and they get garbage out.

  She continued to work her way through the files, carefully redirecting a stock of antiaircraft missiles to launchers on the other side of the defence lines. It was a plausible mistake, particularly as she wasn’t supposed to know where the air defence units were going. She doubted it would matter, if they realised what she’d done. They’d arrest her for being an idiot and ... she’d have to fight her way out. It wouldn’t be easy. They’d been gathering troops around the HQ for nearly a week now. She knew she was good, but was she good enough?

  The bell rang. Rachel tapped her console, hiding the evidence of her tinkering, then handed the system over to her relief. It still astonished her how little the corprat staffers knew of what actually happened inside the computers. They took them far too much on faith. She was careful
to avoid Commander Archer’s eye as she stood and left the chamber, heading down to the barracks assigned to the general’s staff. Commander Archer had a briefing in an hour, according to his schedule. She had no doubt he’d take all the credit for the staff work. Her lips twitched into a smile, despite herself, as she reached the barracks. That was going to bite him, when his superiors discovered his department had played host to a saboteur. He’d have some problems explaining if he’d taken credit for everything.

  A chill ran down her spine as she walked into the barracks itself. She’d slept in smaller places - and filthier places - but the barracks was creepy. She hadn’t needed her training to spot the security monitors, positioned neatly to cover every last inch of the compound. There was no way to hide, even when one was on the toilet. No one spoke, for fear they might be overheard and misunderstood. Rachel hid her dismay, even though it worked in her favour. The more she talked to her peers, the greater the chance of saying something that would lead to her exposure.

  She undressed quickly, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the locals. They had no privacy, nowhere to hide ... she remembered, grimly, just how badly the surveillance system had been abused on Hameau. The monitors had been spying on everyone, including children ... she felt sick at the very thought. They’d been abused here too, unless she missed her guess. The idea of a completely clean, completely incorrupt, security service was nothing more than a dream. There was always a tendency towards playing stormtrooper, towards becoming a peeping Tom ... towards thinking that one knew what was best for one’s people. She made a face as she climbed into her bunk and closed her eyes. The planetary broadcasts had been bland to the point of complete uselessness. No one really knew what was happening outside their own little worlds.

  Which works in my favour, she told herself as she accessed the datanet through her implants and started to work her way through the files. No one questions their orders for fear of looking bad.