Useless as a combat commander, Captain Chiharu Yoshida was unnaturally gifted as a political officer and had helped design the government that Vereshchagin had imposed on Suid-Afrika. Although Yoshida had served under Vereshchagin for six years, Vereshchagin did not know where his ultimate loyalties lay and doubted whether Yoshida knew.
Yoshida steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “The Imperial Government has been loath to send Japanese national troops away from Earth. Previously, it has never included two Japanese battalions in the same task group, and has only sent Imperial Guard battalions to suppress colonial disorder on two prior occasions. For this reason, the composition of the present task group is a significant departure from policy. I am not, however, able to say what it signifies, so it is difficult to understand Admiral Horii’s intentions.”
It had taken Yoshida years to live down the highly uncomplimentary nickname “Tingrin.”
The chain-smoking matriarch of a cowboy clan, Nadine Joh, commented, “Things I don’t understand make me nervous. My family owns a lot of land that USS used to think it owned. USS’ll have to shoot us to get it back. I’m wondering whether Horii intends to try.”
“I think that we must assume that the task group was sent here to end resistance to Imperial rule, which by most definitions we have already done,” Major Paul Henke, the Hangman, volunteered judiciously. “The question is how Admiral Horii defines this.”
Where the Iceman was earth—stolid, pretematurally calm, and possessed of a dour wit—the Hangman was fire. Henke was possessed by nervous energy, and where Kolomeitsev wore one scar, a long one down the side of his face, Vereshchagin knew that Henke bore scars that did not show.
“So, what you are all saying is that they sent too many troops and too many Japanese soldiers to a planet far from Earth,” Beyers said, summing up. “This is not hopeful.” Immensely popular, Beyers was one of the few truly honest men that Vereshchagin had ever met. He had been unstinting in his criticism of the minor irritants of Imperial rule, to which Vereshchagin had responded with waspish replies and measured retreats to the evident delight of the populace.
In fact, the two of them planned and occasionally rehearsed their more outrageous exchanges. Vereshchagin explained this by saying that if water is too pure, fish can’t live in it. Beyers was even blunter, saying that his Afrikaners were entitled to circuses along with their bread.
“So, what can the Imperials do to us?” a second cowboy clan leader asked. The youngest person present, “Little Jim” McClausland had grown up quickly and headed an important family, but still asked some engagingly naive questions.
“Transport the lot of us and impose a military government,” Eva Moore said flatly.
“And what of our people, then?” Hanna Bruwer asked softly. Vereshchagin quoted an old proverb. “ ‘When wood is cut, the splinters fly.’ ”
“We know what United Steel-Standard will want. The question is how far Admiral Horii will be willing to go to accommodate them,” Bruwer responded. “Let us assume for the moment that he will not. What is the worst possible case?” Vereshchagin nodded, and Raul Sanmartin answered for him. “I can think of several scenarios. If the new USS director can’t persuade Admiral Horii to put Albert’s government out of business, he might try to funnel money to the Afrikaner Resistance Movement. With luck and enough money and a little heavy-handed repression from the blacklegs, the ARM boys could make it impossible for a civilian government to function and force Horii to impose a military government. Worse yet, by then, a lot of our people might want to see one.”
Claassen said, rather too loudly, “The planet is mostly at peace, and its wounds have healed far better than I would have imagined possible. Even the Afrikaner Resistance Movement is tired of fighting. Should we tell Admiral Horii that if he doesn’t like Albert as president, he can always have me?” “You should have kept me from being elected when you had the opportunity, but you always were soft-hearted,” Beyers said.
Claassen grinned, making no effort to deny the charge. “It was poor strategy on my part.”
Vereshchagin thought not and knew that Claassen didn’t believe it either. Claassen had allowed his closest rival in the Reformed Nationalist party to go head-to-head with Beyers—and Beyers had dropped the man in a very deep hole.
Everyone was nervous, and Vereshchagin could see that the meeting had lost its focus. He caught Beyers’s eye and brought it to a close.
“Obviously, we will have to see what Admiral Horii intends. I shall try to make him view the Afrikaner Resistance Movement as a serious threat, which may induce him to proceed cautiously. We will consult again when we have more information.”
Nadine Joh got in one parting shot. “And where will you stand, Anton, if things begin to go badly?” she asked.
“Anton will be our amicus usque ad aras," Bruwer said, extricating Vereshchagin from the need to reply and deliberately teasing her husband, who had picked up the habit of quoting Latin phrases on odd occasions and lived to regret it.
“This translates as, ‘He will be our friend as far as the altars,’ which is to say he will be our friend as far as his conscience will permit,” Raul Sanmartin explained, unconsciously identifying with the planet’s inhabitants.
Tuesday(309)
ADMIRAL HORII PACED THE FLOOR OF THE NEWLY BUILT SPACEPORT
administration building that he had commandeered to use as his headquarters. Hearing his intelligence officer enter, without turning or changing his expression, he said, “Captain Yanagita, explain what you have learned about the political system here.” Yanagita had spent most of the previous night assembling information, and his eyes were rimmed by dark circles.
“Yes, sir. The natives are very open about their politics. We had very little difficulty in assembling data. They have a multiparty democratic system.”
“Real multiple parties?” Horii asked sharply, inclining his head slightly.
“Yes, sir. In addition to Albert Beyers’s Union party, which has both Afrikaner and cowboy members and controls the government, there is a strong and very vocal Afrikaner traditionalist party led by a former rebel, Christos Claassen, and two small, somewhat chaotic cowboy traditionalist parties. There is also a pro-imperial party organized by a former USS employee. It holds no seats in the Assembly.” Yanagita turned his head to cloak his embarrassment. “Other parties consider it a joke.” “Continue,” Horii said, looking out the window once more. “The president, Albert Beyers, is the chief executive. He was recently reelected to a second four-year term of office. The Assembly is unicameral and consists of sixty members, forty from Afrikaner districts, eighteen from cowboy districts, and two which represent the descendants of religious sects.”
Horii nodded. “I recall that the religious sects were the planet’s first settlers. Go on.”
“About the judiciary, sir?”
“No.” Horii looked at him directly for the first time. “I assume that Beyers has a cabinet or ministries. Who holds power? In the Assembly, who holds power?”
“In the executive office, the four ministers seem to be the president’s subordinates. They are dismissed at the president’s pleasure.”
“And in the Assembly?”
Yanagita cleared his throat. “Currently, the Union party holds thirty-nine of the sixty seats. Claassen’s party holds thirteen seats, and the two Cowboy parties hold five. The remaining seats are held by independents. The Assembly has four permanent committees and four temporary committees. The Commerce and Agriculture Committee and the Procedures Committee appear to have the most authority, as other committees have very few bills to consider. The speaker is elected by the membership. The current speaker is a woman named Hanna Bruwer who is married to one of Vereshchagin’s officers. She appoints the committee heads and chairs the Procedures Committee.”
“Interesting. Extremely interesting.”
“Sir?”
“Observe—it is unusual, Captain Yanagita, to see a democratic system where polit
ical power is so overtly concentrated. Anton Vereshchagin is a very shrewd man.”
“Sir?”
Horii ignored him. “I have directed Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin, Lieutenant-Colonel Ebyl, and Major Haijalo to report to me. Let me know when they arrive.” He looked at Yanagita. “It is strange, is it not? All of the senior surviving officers of the first Imperial task group were gaijin. Strange that only foreigner officers should survive.”
“The ways of heaven are inscrutable, sir,” Yanagita agreed politely.
As he spoke, the car carrying Vereshchagin, Haijalo, and Ebyl appeared in view.
Inside the vehicle, Harjalo removed one hand from the wheel and stabbed the air for emphasis. “Uwe, are you saying I should have brought along some private as a chauffeur so he can sleep in the car when he could be working? The next thing you know, you’ll be telling me to make snappy salutes to impress the admiral. You’re getting soft on me, Uwe, soft!” Ebyl grinned. Ebyl was thin, bald as an egg, and possessed of an explosive temper. Like many other officers who chose a career on the colonial fringes, Ebyl had been rated politically unreliable by Imperial Security. He didn’t much care. Ebyl’s battalion had fought in four of the Imperial Government’s colonial campaigns, and few of his men were Earth-born. They didn’t much care either.
He affected a yawn. “So, Anton, so what will you do if Horii doesn’t shoot us?”
“If I am encouraged to resign, I doubt that I will be encouraged to stay here on Suid-Afrika. As you know, for years now, men from my battalion have been emigrating to a planet called Esdraelon.”
“Lots and Sots of years,” Haijalo interjected.
“I could go there to plant potatoes and philosophize.” Haijalo snorted. “People would pay money to see you placidly planting potatoes. So—when Admiral Horii fires you, do we resign, too?”
Vereshchagin winced. Matti knew just where to prick. “Please try not to entangle yourself in my downfall.”
Ebyl made a very rude noise. “Anton, you old fraud, after what you did to USS, we will all go down, but I wouldn’t have missed this if they had offered to make me a vice-admiral.” They parked the car in silence and presented themselves to the sentries at the door.
As they entered the spaceport’s conference room, Admiral Horii and Colonel Sumi were grouped around a table along with the colonel of the Manchurians and seven or eight staff officers. Vereshchagin stopped a few paces away from Admiral Horii and saluted. “Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin, acting task group commander, presenting myself for further orders.” Horii returned his salute. “Welcome, Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin. Please be seated,” he said with apparent sincerity. He nodded to his aide who pulled a small diskette from his pocket and handed it to Vereshchagin. “One of your former officers, a Lieutenant Mizoguehi, gave me this to give to you.” “Thank you, sir.” Vereshchagin bowed slightly before taking a seat He gestured to his companions. “Lieutenant-Colonel Ebyl, Major Harjalo.”
“Yes, I recognize them from their files,” Horii said. “This is Colonel Sumi, my chief of staff and political officer.”
Sumi glared.
Horii ignored him and asked, “Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin, in your estimation, what is the current military situation here?”
“As I attempted to make clear in my second report, conventional resistance has ceased. The bulk of the population has accepted the local government, but there are still several active terrorist organizations. The most dangerous one is a millenarian organization which calls itself the Afrikaner Resistance Movement—I believe that it is the third organization to use that particular name. It is well organized and well supplied with arms.” He smiled, keeping his eyes on Sumi’s impassive face. “Its adherents tried to set off a rather large car bomb in the city yesterday.”
“Have you infiltrated them?” Sumi demanded.
“To some degree,” Vereshchagin told him.
“I want their names.”
“That would be awkward,” Vereshchagin said serenely. “None of our contacts realize that they are working for the Imperial Government.”
“I am sure that we can discuss details of security arrangements at a later time,” Horii interjected. “What of the other terrorist movements?”
“The Afrikaner Order was the secret society which actually launched the uprising. We have seriously injured them, and they are currently biding their time, rebuilding their organization and awaiting a better opportunity. They may still have access to nuclear weapons.”
Sitting beside Colonel Sumi, Captain Yanagita blanched.
“There are also two small anti-imperial organizations active in the cowboy country,” Vereshchagin concluded. “The secret war here is winnable, but not yet won.”
“And what of the political situation?” Horii asked politely.
“Last year, as acting task group commander, I approved complete self-rule for this planet in accordance with the Guardianship Council’s resolution on the matter.” Vereshchagin kept his face perfectly composed, politely ignoring the fact that self-rule had never been granted to planets settled by non-Japanese.
This was too much for USS Planetary Director Matsudaira, who hissed, “You have greatly exceeded your authority by doing so!”
“Matsudaira-san, perhaps as our guest, you would like us to take a short break,” Horii said, obviously enjoying the situation.
“No, honored Admiral,” Matsudaira responded sulkily.
“I have asked the Colonial Ministry to rule on the matter,” Vereshchagin said. “I expect to receive a definitive opinion in three or four years. Currently, Dr. Albert Beyers’s Union party has a secure hold on the central government. Dr. Beyers has been very willing to cooperate in most matters and has been able to persuade his party to follow his lead. The other political parties are at least latently anti-imperial.”
“What about the New Auspices party?” Sumi asked harshly. “The New Auspices party only exists because I continue to fund it. The local inhabitants usually refer to it as the ‘Kafferboetie’ party, which translates best as ‘Black Brothers’ party, and the expression is not intended as an endearment.” “And if I were to reconsider your action granting self-rule to be a nullity and dissolve the local government?” Horii asked, looking at Sumi.
“At best, you would have to substitute direct military government. If Dr. Beyers retired from politics, Christos Claassen would almost certainly be elected president, and his Reformed Nationalist party would probably win control of the Assembly. Heer Claassen, although reformed, is a former rebel, and he is far more moderate than many of his supporters. I would recommend against reviving United Steel-Standard’s charter to govern. Both the Afrikaners and the cowboys would substitute labor unrest for political activity.”
“Major Harjalo, do you concur in these assessments?” Horii asked formally.
“Yes,” Harjalo replied, his nostrils flaring very slightly. Horii looked at Ebyl. “Lieutenant-Colonel Ebyl, do you also concur?”
“Although a brilliant man, the late Admiral Lee, our previous commander, wasn’t a particularly good judge of character, which is a polite way of saying he almost got us all killed,” Ebyl observed. “Neither the cowboys nor the Afrikaners will stand for too much nonsense, and they hate USS.” He pointed to Vereshchagin. “Anton is the pin that keeps the grenade from going off, so you’d better keep him.”
“I will, of course, resign my commission if you desire this and if my actions here do not meet with the approval of the Imperial Government,” Vereshchagin said politely.
Horii stroked his chin and studied Ebyl and Haijalo. “We must study the situation and take your advice under consideration before taking any precipitate action. I value your services, Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin, and would ask you not to resign. You will have a place on my staff.”
“Thank you, sir.” Watching through the comer of his eye, Vereshchagin noted Sumi’s self-control almost give way.
After discussing billeting arrangements for the ne
wly arrived
troops, they talked inconsequentially for several more hours. As they were about to leave, Vereshchagin asked Horii, “How is Lieutenant Mizoguchi?”
Horii gestured to Yanagita, who replied, “He has been discharged and leads a very productive Me in his home city.” “And his eyes?” Vereshchagin asked.
“Unfortunately, his optic nerves have not responded to regenerative therapy.”
Vereshchagin nodded. Moments later, he left the building with Ebyl and Harjalo. As they walked toward the car, Harjalo said, “For a moment there, it sounded like you knew this admiral.”
“Yes, I recognized him almost immediately. He served on Cyclade as a lieutenant with the Third Lifeguards Battalion. He’s picked up about a dozen years on us because of the time differential.”
Haijalo gave him a surprised look. “The Third Lifeguards— they were the ones who got themselves shot up by the Provis.” “Yes. Horii was one of the ones who survived.”
Haijalo glanced back over his shoulder. “Horii may turn out all right, but Sumi obviously has a six-jo mind next to a twelve-70 ego,” referring to the straw floor mats that Japanese use to measure their homes.
“Like most blacklegs,” Ebyl quipped.
As they drove away, Vereshchagin asked, “Matti, did anything strike you as odd?”
Harjalo thought for a second. “One thing did. Every officer we met was native Japanese.”
“Lord of heaven, you are right,” Ebyl said.
“Ten years ago, 40 percent of the officers admitted into the academies were non-Japanese,” Vereshchagin said slowly, “and officers selected for colonial postings have always been overwhelmingly non-Japanese. No one with connections ever wanted to fall out of step with his year-group.”
“Nobody with connections has ever wanted a posting this far out,” Haijalo said bitterly. “Something’s changed. Do you think that they put together a special all-Japanese lineup just for us?”
“Matti, it would worry me more if they had not selected Japanese officers just for us. It would suggest fundamental changes in the Imperial system.”
Robert Frezza - [Colonial War 02] Page 3
