Robert Frezza - [Colonial War 02]

by Fire in a Faraway Place (epub)

  Langermann cut in, “Heer Kemp, I am an officer in the Army of the Republic of Suid-Afrika. I forget—is this our third or fourth republic? In any event, I have a warrant here from President Beyers to remove certain components from your heavy equipment, and a proclamation for you to read to your employees.” Langermann passed the papers over.

  “It is all right, Jan. Go back to work and don’t tell anyone about this just yet,” Kemp told the watchman absently as he studied the documents and ran his finger across Beyers’s unmistakably flamboyant signature. “This is a rebellion,” he exclaimed.

  “It is all we are left with, I am afraid. The Imps tried to arrest the government a few hours ago. But Colonel Vereshchagin is on our side, this time.” Langermann smiled behind his face shield. “We need to immobilize your production facilities by pulling the microchips from the equipment. If we win, we will put them back. If we lose, the Volk will have other problems to worry about.”

  Kemp looked up at him uncertainly. “Heer Langermann? Is this you?”

  “Oh, damn it, Kemp!” Langermann pulled off his face shield. “You weren’t supposed to recognize me. If the Imps know, they may take reprisals.”

  “Sorry, sir. I will not mention it.” Kemp rose and shook Langermann’s hand. “It is good to have you back anyway. Ah, you had better let me read the proclamation to the men. Your voice is distinctive. How is your family, sir?”

  “I sent them off to the country last week. And yours?” “Very fine, sir.” Kemp reached into a drawer. “If Oom Albert says that we are starting a rebellion, I guess that we had better drink to its success.”

  “No, thank you. We are in a hurry. Is that young puppy Matsudaira put in to replace me here tonight? I sent two of my men to check my old office.”

  “Yes, sir. He likes to work late.” Kemp glanced out in the hallway and saw a soldier driving an electric cart. A Japanese man, blindfolded, bound, and gagged, was strapped to the back. ‘That looks like one of your men with him, now.” Hearing Kemp’s voice, Matsudaira’s man began writhing on

  the cart. Only small noises escaped his gag. The trooper driving the cart ignored his antics. Kemp waved.

  Langermann hastily refastened his mask. “Ah, Kemp, when you read that proclamation, ask your people to help give my boys a hand. A few of them are farm lads, and they understand the theory of pulling microchips better than they understand the practice, although we did slip in here for a few hours of hands-on training when you were closed last Sunday.” He sighed. “It feels strange to be doing this. It will take me a few days to get used to it.”

  “Good luck, sir.”

  “No, good luck to you, Kemp. Good luck to all of us.”

  An hour later, after Langermann and his men had disappeared into the night, Kemp wandered through the plant and found a casting machine purring away that Langermann’s men had somehow overlooked. He shut off the machine and reached inside to pull out the microchip that told it what to cast. Shrugging, he dropped it on the floor and ground it under his foot.

  ANOTHER GROUP OF FOUR RESERVISTS ENTERED THE PRETORIA GAOL

  armed and handed the flustered turnkeys a stack of pardons.

  “Former terrorists, out of your sacks!” the corporal in charge, a bearded young Afrikaner, called out as the prison guards hastened to separate the ARM men and women from the petty thieves.

  As the door to his cell opened, Gerrit Terblanche grabbed the corporal’s arm. “What was that you said? What is happening?” “Suid-Afrika and Colonel Vereshchagin are rebelling against the Imps, and President Beyers thinks that if we leave you in here, they’ll shoot you straightaway. I am all for it myself, but Oom Albert isn’t, so we are accepting volunteers for the infantry. All of you who can get yourselves moving in the next five minutes are welcome to help us fight.”

  “Hey! What happens if we don’t like being in your army?” one ARM member called out.

  “Hey, yourself! If we don’t like having you in our army, we boot you out.” The corporal reached in his pocket and pulled out freshly minted currency. “The Hangman will supervise your training, so I have twenty rand that says none of you last a week.”

  “Well.” Terblanche looked around at his former comrades.

  “Does anyone else want a piece of that bet?”

  * * *

  AROUND ELEVEN O’CLOCK, AFTER TWO SQUADS OF BLACKLEGS

  manning roadblocks around Pretoria failed to report in, Colonel Sumi finally woke up Admiral Horii. Comprehending the situation almost instantly, Horii flew into an absolutely murderous rage and coldly ordered Colonel Uno’s Manchurians to probe the defenses of the Bloemfontein casern.

  Within an hour, a chastened Colonel Uno reported that Vereshchagin’s men had evacuated the casern literally under his nose. Dressing down a hapless Colonel Sumi did not improve Horii’s temper one whit.

  Horii formally declared a state of siege and announced the suspension of the elected government for its close ties to Vereshchagin and his mutineers. Sumi roused his weary blacklegs and sent them out to seize control of newspapers and television and radio stations. Despite what he considered to be the obvious futility of such a request, Horii asked Suid-Afrika’s district officials to reassure their people and await instructions from Imperial authorities.

  Wednesday(315)

  “ah, LIEUTENANT AKAMINE,” HORII SAID, “i UNDERSTAND THAT

  Vereshchagin’s casern was evacuated during the night without anyone noticing. Please report how many casualties we suffered in the process of occupying it.”

  Lieutenant Akamine had been the first of Colonel Uno’s officers to set foot inside the deserted Bloemfontein casern, and Uno had sent him to Horii’s headquarters as a sacrifice.

  Akamine glanced uneasily at Colonel Sumi and Captain Yanagita, who had obviously already experienced the admiral’s wrath. “We suffered very few casualties, honored Admiral. It would appear that Vereshchagin’s men departed hurriedly, and the engineers were able to remove most of the booby traps that they left without great difficulty.”

  ‘That is a small consolation. Please explain how this evacuation was effected.”

  Akamine floundered for the correct words. “It is Colonel Uno’s belief that this was a well-laid plot. We found a tunnel had been constructed which led to a secluded area nearly half a kilometer from the casern perimeter.”

  “On a planet so addicted to mining operations, this is perhaps not entirely surprising.” Horii gave Sumi a malicious glance. “Colonel Sumi has already assured me that Vereshchagin laid careful plans, and I certainly hope that this is true. It would be extremely disquieting to discover that he was able to improvise such a disappearance. What about his vehicles and aircraft?”

  “A number of trucks were left behind, as well as two helicopters and four Type 97 armored cars.” Akamine hesitated. “The vehicles were rendered unserviceable, while the helicopters and armored cars were stripped of components.”

  “How thoroughly stripped? Shells?”

  Akamine nodded unhappily. “They were completely stripped, honored Admiral.”

  “A Potemkin village,” Horii said, with evident amusement. Akamine handed Watanabe a two-sided leaflet to give to the admiral. “Children have been distributing these throughout the town of Bloemfontein. Colonel Uno requests instructions as to how he should deal with this.”

  In Horii’s opinion, Uno was a weak character who spent too much time listening to his chief of staff, a blackleg lieutenant-colonel. ‘They are being distributed elsewhere,” he said without touching the document. “The only inhabitants who are not familiar with what President Beyers has to say by now are undoubtedly blind and deaf, neh, Colonel Sumi? Please instruct Colonel Uno to ignore this matter. What about the armory, Akamine?” “It was empty except for a small quantity of liquid propellant. The ammunition and weapons stored there were missing.” Horii turned and asked blandly, “What do you think of this, Captain Yanagita?”

  Yanagita replied stiffly, “Sir, it is my belief th
at Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin removed the bulk of his soldiers and equipment undetected prior to last night.”

  “I agree.” Horii turned back to Akamine. ‘Tell Colonel Uno that I will not hold him to blame.”

  “Thank you, honored Admiral,” Akamine said, bowing low. “Akamine, one final question. What about the saunas?” “The saunas?” Akamine appeared puzzled.

  “It is not important. You are dismissed. Please advise Colonel Uno that I wish to see him immediately.”

  “Yes, honored Admiral.” Akamine saluted and left.

  Horii folded his hands in front of him. “The birds have taken wing. Somehow, I doubt that Colonel Uno will find them. Captain Yanagita, what else has occurred overnight?” “Sir. It appears that a preplanned program of sabotage

  went into effect. Vital machinery at all facilities appears to have been immobilized by the removal of small parts. USS plant managers uniformly assert that they cannot operate. Matsudaira-san also reports that three of his executives have been kidnapped.”

  At the great Mariental mine northeast of Bloemfontein, USS employees had shown Yanagita hundred-ton excavators and thirty-ton haulers, capable of leveling mountains, that had been stripped of the computer chips that regulated each stroke of their engines. The chief engineer had quipped that with wheelbarrows and overtime, it would only take him fourteen years to fulfill his daily quota, assuming, of course, that someone could get the smelter running in that amount of time.

  “Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin is a very shrewd man. He has succeeded in delineating the nature of our conflict.” “Sir?”

  “Observe. My objective is to eliminate resistance and ensure continued deliveries of fusion metals. Even though we have control over the populace, he has arranged matters so that we cannot deliver fusion metals without defeating him—and perhaps not then. An ingenious touch on his part. Is there more to relate, Yanagita?”

  “Yes, honored Admiral. We have control of all strategic points except the ocean tap and two mines which are occupied by small parties of rebellious soldiers. Colonel Sumi respectfully recommends that we assault these positions.”

  Sumi remained uncharacteristically silent.

  Horii snorted. “Vereshchagin is denying us access to the ocean tap and the deep mines. He knows that it will be years before we can restore production if we provoke his men into wrecking them. I will take Colonel Sumi’s recommendation under advisement. Until I decide otherwise, you will take no action against these men.”

  Yanagita swallowed hard. “Sir, may I respectfully emphasize Ihese soldiers are not Japanese and they have no means of escape. In my opinion, a quick assault would cause them to surrender and place these facilities in our hands with minimal damage.”

  “And if you are wrong, Captain Yanagita, and they blow up Ihemselves along with these facilities?” Horii asked sardonically. “Will you rebuild them for me?”

  Horii paced the room. “Vereshchagin did not need to leave ihese soldiers behind. He expects me to test the resolve of these men, and expects that they will die. He does this to remind me not to underestimate his spirit. Do you know anything of Russian history, Yanagita?”

  “Very little, sir. They were defeated in the First Pacific War.” “Russia endured the Tartar yoke, the communists, and the worst of the crack-up. Tens of millions of them died. Vereshchagin reminds me of this. Issue strict orders to leave the men at these locations alone.”

  Again, Horii began pacing. “In effect, Vereshchagin challenges us to a duel. The forces left behind are to ensure that I understand this. It is quite simple. If we crush his command, his rebellion will end. Have you relayed my orders to Lieutenant-Colonel Ebyl?”

  “Yes, sir. I regret that he states that it is impossible for Mm to comply,” Yanagita replied, looking even more discomfited.

  “I thought as much. It is a bee sting on a face in tears,” Horii said, quoting an old proverb. “Ebyl wishes me to know that his men will neither help nor hinder. He will suffer for it after we have collected Vereshchagin’s head, as he is undoubtedly aware.”

  Horii sat down and tilted his chair back, looking up at the ceiling. “We must not permit Vereshchagin to dictate the terms of our conflict. When an enemy has few men, you must crash him straightaway without allowing him space for breath. It is essential for us to locate his main force before he can mature his plans.”

  “Sir, I will guarantee discovery of his location,” Yanagita declared.

  “Please see that you do. Preferably within one week. Please leave now.”

  After Yanagita closed the door behind him, Sumi said belligerently, “Admiral, I stand by my conduct A hasty stroke often goes awry. I believe that my actions helped to bring this treasonous plot into the open.’,’

  “Inasmuch as Vereshchagin appears to have forestalled every action that you attempted to take against him, I shudder to think how much more danger he would have been had you allowed him more time to prepare. We will discuss your insubordination and lack of attention to detail at another time. Until then, I still have use for you. What is it that you want?” he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear Sumi ask anyway.

  Sumi swallowed his anger with a measurable effort. “I wish to lead an attack against these traitorous mutineers.”

  “You may do so. I will, of course, expect you to ensure that all of my officers display a more obedient attitude in the future.”

  Sumi forced himself to say, “Yes, honored Admiral.”

  A few moments later, the building was rocked by a loud explosion that more or less obliterated the supply depot that Thomas’s men had visited a few nights previously.

  Horii smiled. “A worthy opponent,” he murmured.

  IN EVERY ARMY, THERE IS ALWAYS SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T GET THE

  word. In the l/35th Rifle Battalion, that person was frequently, although not invariably, Private Prigal.

  On this morning of all mornings, Prigal was driving a bakkie to the Bloemfontein casern with a load of cooking oil purchased in Upper Marlboro. Using the initiative and ingenuity which had earned him his less-than-exalted rank, he had managed to connect his personal radio to the local “Top 50 Hits” station rather than to the battalion net.

  When Prigal reached the gatepost and honked his horn, he noticed that the guards were Manchurian about the same time that they realized he wasn’t and began chambering rounds. As Prigal threw the pickup into reverse and wheeled it around, the same providence that protects drunks and little children caused one bullet to pass ten centimeters to the right of his body and another to pass twenty centimeters to the left.

  Leaking cooking oil, the truck bumped down the street on three tires. Two of the three Manchurians pursuing Prigal promptly slipped in the spilled oil. An awed Afrikaner in the druggist’s shop down the street later expressed regret that she didn’t have her video camera running.

  Ditching the truck, Prigal found a safe house and called in. After his section sergeant figuratively removed 2 centimeters from his backside and everyone else literally laughed themselves silly, Matti Harjalo complimented him, with a discernible twinkle in his eye, on carrying out his orders despite circumstances that might have caused a lesser man to quail.

  Prigal, who had secured himself yet another modest footnote in battalion history, understandably concluded that he would have been better off getting himself shot.

  SUID-AFRIKA’S RESPONSE TO ADMIRAL HORIl’s SIEGE PROCLAMA-

  tion and suspension of the civil government was immediate and well coordinated. Street signs and house numbers disappeared overnight. The district governments stopped functioning, refusing to send in reports or answer phones. The border police quit to a man.

  The populace collectively forgot their English and declined to communicate in any language except Afrikaans. They declined to communicate effectively in that language, as Japanese officers with translators discovered to their mounting exasperation. Afrikaners have always had a collective talent for dumb insolence. In one old man�
��s words, “What the blacks did to our ancestors, we can do to these Imps.”

  Vereshchagin’s men provided them with technical advice. Mohandas Gandhi drew lessons from the civil disobedience campaign that the Finns waged against the czarist government in the early twentieth century, so as Hans Coldewe expressed it, “It runs in the family.”

  FIRE

  Thursday(315)

  DEEP UNDERNEATH A DRAKENSBERG PEAK, IN THE CAVERN THAT

  had become the seat of Suid-Afrika’s government, Hanna Bruwer and a quorum of evacuated assemblymen passed a package of laws to make legal most of the things that needed doing. Albert Beyers signed it into law a few moments later. One legislator whose pet notions included a new constitutional convention was unceremoniously told to shut up and sit down.

  One statute that Bruwer and Beyers rammed down the Assembly’s collective throat was a Militia Act, which provided for military ranks, law, pensions, and pay to resolve whatever questions remained about the status of Vereshchagin’s men, scattered by platoons in the huge forest reserve that took in the western Drakensbergs and the upper Vaal and Oranje valleys.

  Predictably, the less-experienced among Vereshchagin’s men were bored within the first twenty-four hours.

  “how MUCH TIME BEFORE WE MOVE OUT, DO YOU THINK?” RE-

  cruit Private Vosloo asked his hammock mate, Kriegler, as they leaned against a fern tree together.

  “You heard Captain Coldewe the same as I did,” Kriegler retorted. “You think I read minds?”

  “You’re right. I should know you don’t read.” Vosloo thought for a minute. “How much ammo are you carrying?” Kriegler patted his webbing. “Three hundred sixty rounds. That should be enough, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know. Sergeant Orlov made it sound like we would want more.”

  “Look, they issued us two ammunition pouches which hold four magazines each, plus one more in my rifle. Nine times forty rounds is three hundred sixty rounds. It stands to reason that if they wanted us to carry more, they’d have given us more pouches, right? It’s not as if we’re not carrying enough,” Kriegler said, thinking of the single-shot rockets, grenades, mines, and extra machine gun ammunition he had been handed. Food and water was definitely an afterthought.