Sword and Scepter (codominium)

by Jerry Pournelle

  "Are you offering to double-cross the Patriots?"

  "No. My contract with Bannister specifically states that I cannot be made party to violations of the Laws of War. This document hires me to enforce them in an area already pacified. It doesn't state who might violate them."

  "You're skating on damned thin ice, Colonel. If the Council ever saw this paper they'd hang you for treason!" Roger read it again. "I see no harm in signing, but I tell you in advance the Confederacy won't honor it. If Franklin wins this they'll throw you off this planet-if they don't have you shot."

  "Let me worry about the future, Mr. Mayor. Right now your problem is protecting your people. You can help with that by signing."

  "I doubt it," Hastings said. He reached for a pen. "So long as you know there isn't a shadow of validity to this because I'll be countermanded from the home world-" he scrawled his name and title across the papers and handed them back to Falkenberg.

  Glenda Ruth could hear the Regimental party across the wide parade ground. As she approached with Hiram Black they seemed to be breasting their way upstream through waves of sound, the crash of drums, throbbing, wailing bagpipes, mixed with off-key songs from intoxicated male baritones.

  It was worse inside. As they entered, a flashing saber swept within inches of her face. A junior captain saluted and apologized in a stream of words. "I was showing Oberleutnant Marcks a new parry I learned on Sparta, Miss. Please forgive me?" When she nodded the captain drew his companion to one side and the saber whirled again.

  "That's a Friedland officer-all the Friedlanders are here," Glenda Ruth said. Hiram Black nodded grimly. The captured mercenaries wore dress uniform, green and gold contrasting with the blue and gold of Falkenberg's men. Medals flashed in the bright overhead lights. She looked across the glittering room and saw the colonel at a table on the far side.

  Falkenberg and his companion stood when she reached the table after a perilous journey across the crowded floor. Pipers marched past pouring out more sound.

  Falkenberg's face was flushed and she wondered if he were drunk. "Miss Horton, may I present Major Oscar von Thoma," he said formally. "Major von Thoma commands the Friedland artillery battalion."

  "I-" She didn't know what to say. The Friedlanders were enemies, and Falkenberg was introducing her to the officer as his guest. "My pleasure," she stammered. "And this is Colonel Hiram Black."

  Von Thoma clicked his heels. The men stood stiffly until she was seated next to Falkenberg. That kind of chivalry had almost vanished, but somehow it seemed appropriate here. As the stewards brought glasses von Thoma turned to Falkenberg. "You ask too much," he said. "Besides, you may have fired the lands from the barrels by then."

  "If we have we'll reduce the price," Falkenberg said cheerfully. He noted Glenda Ruth's puzzled expression. "Major von Thoma has asked if he can buy his guns back when the campaign is ended. He doesn't care for my terms."

  Hiram Black observed drily, "Seems to me the Council's goin' to want a say in fixin' that price, General Falkenberg."

  Falkenberg snorted contemptuously. "No."

  He is drunk, Glenda Ruth thought. It doesn't show much, but-do I know him that well already?

  "Those guns were taken by the Forty-second without Council help. I will see to it that they aren't used against Patriots, and the Council has no further interest in the matter." Falkenberg turned to Glenda Ruth. "Will you win the vote tomorrow?"

  "There won't be a vote tomorrow."

  "So you can't win," Falkenberg muttered. "Expected that. What about the war policy vote?"

  "They'll be debating for the next two days-" she looked nervously at Major von Thoma. "I don't want to be impolite, but should we discuss that with him at the table?"

  "I understand." Von Thoma got unsteadily to his feet. "We will speak of this again, Colonel. It has been my pleasure, Miss Horton. Colonel Black." He bowed stiffly to each and went to the big center table where a number of Friedland officers were drinking with Falkenberg's.

  "John, is this wise?" she asked. "Some of the Councillors are already accusing you of not wanting to fight-"

  "Hell, they're callin' him a traitor," Black interrupted. "Soft on Fedsymps, consortin' with the enemy-they don't even like you recruitin' new men to replace your losses." Black hoisted a glass of whiskey and drained it at one gulp. "I wish some of 'em had been ridin' up the Valley with us! Glenda Ruth, that was some ride. And when Captain Frazer runs out of fuel, Falkenberg tells him, cool as you please, to use bicycles!" Black chuckled in remembrance.

  "I'm serious!" Glenda Ruth protested. "John, Bannister hates you. I think he always has." The stewards brought whiskey for Falkenberg. "Wine or whiskey, Miss?" one asked.

  "Wine-John, please, they're going to order you to attack the capital!"

  "Interesting." His features tightened suddenly and his eyes became alert. Then he relaxed and let the whiskey take effect. "If we obey those orders I'll need Major von Thoma's good offices to get my equipment back. Doesn't Bannister know what will happen if we let them catch us on those open plains?"

  "Howie Bannister knows his way 'round a conspiracy better'n he does a battlefield, General," Black observed. "We give him the Secretary of War title 'cause we thought he'd drive a hard bargain with you, but he's not much on battles."

  "I've noticed," Falkenberg said. He laid his hand on Glenda Ruth's arm and gently stroked it. It was the first time he'd ever touched her, and she sat very still. "This is supposed to be a party," Falkenberg laughed. He looked up and caught the mess president's eye. "Lieutenant, have Pipe Major give us a song!"

  The room was instantly still. Glenda Ruth felt the warmth of Falkenberg's hand. The soft caress promised much more, and she was suddenly glad, but there was a stab of fear as well. He'd spoken so softly, yet all those people had stopped their drinking, the drums ceased, the pipes, everything, at his one careless nod. Power like that was frightening.

  The burly Pipe Major selected a young tenor. One pipe and a snare drum played as he began to sing: "Oh Hae ye nae heard o' the false Sakeld, Hae ye nae heard o' the keen Lord Scroop? For he ha' ta'en the Kinmont Willie, to Haribee for to hang him up…"

  "John, please listen," she pleaded.

  "They hae ta'en the news to the Bold Bacleugh…"

  "John, really."

  "Perhaps you should listen," he said gently. He raised his glass as the young voice rose and the tempo gathered.

  "Oh is my basnet a widow's curch, or my lance the wand o' the willow tree! And is my hand a lady's lily hand, that this English lord should lightly me?"

  After the song John forbade talk of politics. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying the party. Both the Friedlanders and Falkenberg's mercenary officers were educated men, and it was very pleasant for Glenda Ruth to have a roomful of warriors competing to please her. They taught her the wild dances of a dozen cultures, and she drank far too much; but all during the party, and even in Falkenberg's quarters later, the old border ballad haunted her.

  When she left Falkenberg's room the next morning she knew she could never warn Bannister, but she had to do something. Finally she persuaded the president to meet John away from the shouting masses of the Council Chamber.

  Bannister came directly to the point. "Colonel, we can't keep a large army in the field indefinitely. Miss Horton's Valley ranchers may be willing to pay these taxes, but most of our people won't."

  "Just what did you expect when you began this?" Falkenberg asked.

  "A long war," Bannister admitted. "But your initial successes raised hopes, and we got a lot of supporters we hadn't expected. They demand an end."

  "Fair-weather soldiers," Falkenberg said. "Common enough. Why did you let them gain so much influence in your Council?"

  "Because there were a lot of them."

  And they all support you for President, Glenda Ruth thought. While my friends and I were out at the front, you were back here organizing the newcomers…

  "After all, this is a democratic go
vernment," Bannister said.

  "And thus quite unable to accomplish anything that takes sustained effort." Falkenberg activated his desk top map. "Look. We have the plains ringed with troops. The irregulars can hold the passes and swamps practically forever. If there is a threatened breakthrough my Regiment stands as a mobile reserve to meet it. They can't get at us-but we can't risk battle in the open with them."

  "So what can we do?" Bannister demanded. "Franklin is sure to send reinforcements. If we wait, we lose."

  "I doubt that. They've no assault boats either-they can't land in any real force on our side of the line, and what good does it do to add to their force in the capital? Eventually we starve them out. Franklin itself must be hurt by the loss of corn shipments."

  "A mercenary paradise," Bannister muttered. "A long war and no fighting-you must attack while we have troops! I tell you, our support is melting away."

  Falkenberg had a vision of armies thrown against the Friedland armor. He made no answer.

  "John, he may be right," Glenda Ruth said. "The Council is going to insist…" His look was impassive, and she felt she was losing his respect. But he had to understand, these were only civilians in arms, and they hadn't money to pay them properly, while all the time they were guarding the passes their ranches were going to ruin… was Howard Bannister right? Was this a mercenary paradise, and John Falkenberg wasn't even trying?

  The vision she'd had that lonely night at the pass came unwanted again to her mind. She fought it with the memory of the party, and afterwards…

  "Just what in hell are you waiting on, Colonel Falkenberg?" Bannister demanded.

  Falkenberg said nothing, and Glenda Ruth wanted to cry.

  X

  The Council had not voted six days later. Glenda Ruth used every parliamentary trick her father had taught her during the meetings, and after they adjourned each day she hustled from delegate to delegate. She made promises she couldn't keep, exploited old friendships and made new ones, and every morning she was sure only that she could delay a little longer.

  She wasn't sure herself why she did it. The war vote was linked to the reappointment of Silana as governor in Allansport, and she did know that the man was incompetent; but mostly, after the debates and political meetings, Falkenberg would come for her, or send a junior officer to escort her to his quarters-and she was glad to go. They seldom spoke of politics, or even talked much at all. It was enough to be with him-but when she left in the mornings, she was afraid again. He'd never promised her anything.

  On the sixth night she joined him for a late supper. When the orderlies had taken the dinner cart she sat moodily at the table. "This is what you meant, isn't it?" she asked.

  "About what?"

  "That I'd have to betray either my friends or my command-but I don't even know if you're my friend. John, what am I going to do?"

  Very gently he laid his hand against her cheek. "You're going to talk sense-and keep them from appointing Silana in Allansport."

  "But what are we waiting for?"

  He shrugged. "Would you rather it came to an open break? There'll be no stopping them if we lose this vote. The mob's demanding your arrest right now-and for the past three days Calvin has had the Headquarters Guard on full alert in case they're fool enough to try it."

  She shuddered, but before she could say more he lifted her gently to her feet and pressed her close to him. Once again her doubts vanished, but she knew they'd be back. Who was she betraying? And for what?

  The crowd shouted before she could speak. "Mercenary's whore!" someone called. Her friends answered with more epithets, and it was five minutes before Bannister could restore order.

  How long can I keep it up? At least another day or so, I suppose. Am I his whore? If I'm not, I don't know what I am. He's never told me. She carefully took papers from her briefcase, but there was another interruption. A messenger strode quickly, almost running, across the floor to hand a flimsy to Howard Bannister. The pudgy president glanced at it, then began to read more carefully.

  The hall fell silent as everyone watched Bannister's face. The President showed a gamut of emotions, surprise, bewilderment, then carefully controlled rage. He read the message again and whispered to the messenger, who nodded. Bannister lifted the microphone.

  "Councillors, I have-I suppose it would be simpler to read this to you:

  "PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT FREE STATES OF WASHINGTON FROM CDSN CRUISER INTREPID BREAK BREAK WE ARE IN RECEIPT OF DOCUMENTED COMPLAINT FROM CONFEDERATE GOVERNMENT THAT FREE STATES ARE IN VIOLATION OF LAWS OF WAR STOP THIS VESSEL ORDERED TO INVESTIGATE STOP LANDING BOAT ARRIVES ASTORIA SIXTEEN HUNDRED HOURS THIS DAY STOP PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT MUST BE PREPARED TO DISPATCH ARMISTICE COMMISSION TO MEET WITH DELEGATES FROM CONFEDERACY AND CODOMINIUM INVESTIGATING OFFICERS IMMEDIATELY UPON ARRIVAL OF LANDING BOAT STOP COMMANDING OFFICERS ALL MERCENARY FORCES ORDERED TO BE PRESENT TO GIVE EVIDENCE STOP BREAK BREAK JOHN GRANT CAPTAIN CODOMINIUM SPACE NAVY BREAK MESSAGE ENDS"

  There was a moment of hushed silence, then the gymnasium erupted in sound. "Investigate us!?"

  "Goddam CD is-"

  "Armistice hell!"

  Falkenberg caught Glenda Ruth's eye. He gestured toward the outside and left the hall. She joined him minutes later. "I really ought to stay, John. We've got to decide what to do."

  "What you decide has just become unimportant," Falkenberg said. "Your Council doesn't hold as many cards as it used to."

  "John, what will they do?"

  He shrugged. "Try to stop the war now that they're here. I suppose it never occurred to Silana that a complaint from the Franklin industrialists is more likely to get CD attention than 'a similar squawk from a bunch of farmers…"

  "You expected this! Was this what you were waiting for?"

  "Something like this."

  "You know more than you're saying! John, why won't you tell me? I know you don't love me, but haven't I a right to know?"

  He stood at stiff attention in the bright reddish tinted sunlight for a long time. Finally he said, "Glenda Ruth, nothing's certain in politics and war. I once promised something to a girl, and I couldn't deliver it."

  "But-"

  "We've each command responsibilities-and each other. Will you believe me when I say I've tried to keep you from having to choose-and keep myself from the same choice? You'd better get ready. A CD Court of Inquiry isn't in the habit of waiting for people, and they're due in little more than an hour."

  The Court was to be held aboard Intrepid. The four-hundred-meter bottle-shaped warship in orbit around New Washington was the only neutral territory available. When the Patriot delegates were piped aboard, the Marines in the landing dock gave Bannister the exact honors they'd given the Confederate governor general, then hustled the delegation through, gray steel corridors to a petty officer's lounge reserved for them.

  "Governor General Forrest of the Confederacy is already aboard, sir," the Marine sergeant escort told them. "Captain would like to see Colonel Falkenberg in his cabin in ten minutes."

  Bannister looked around the small lounge. "I suppose it's bugged," he said. "Colonel, what happens now?"

  Falkenberg noted the artificially friendly tone Bannister had adopted. "The captain and his advisers will hear each of us privately. If you want witnesses summoned, he'll take care of that. When the Court thinks the time proper, he'll bring both parties together. The CD usually tries to get everyone to agree rather than impose some kind of settlement."

  "And if we can't agree?"

  Falkenberg shrugged. "They might let you fight it out. They might order mercenaries off-planet and impose a blockade. They could even draw up their own settlement and order you to accept it."

  "What happens if we just tell them to go away? What can they do?" Bannister demanded.

  Falkenberg smiled tightly. "They can't conquer the planet because they haven't enough troops to occupy it-but there's not a lot else they can't do, Mr. President. There's enough power aboard this cruiser to make New Wa
shington uninhabitable. You don't have either planetary defenses or a fleet to oppose it. I'd think a long time before I made Captain Grant angry-and on that score, I've been summoned to his cabin." Falkenberg saluted. There was no trace of mockery in the gesture, but Bannister grimaced as the soldier left the lounge.

  Falkenberg was conducted past Marine sentries to the captain's cabin. John Grant, nephew of Grand Senator Martin Grant and son of the late chief of United States security services, was a tall thin officer with prematurely graying hair that made him look much older than his forty-five standard years. As Falkenberg entered Grant stood and greeted him with genuine warmth. "Good to see you again, John Christian." He extended his hand and looked at his visitor with pleasure. "You're keeping fit enough."

  "So are you, Johnny." Falkenberg's smile was equally genuine. Captain Grant brought his chair from behind the desk and placed it facing Falkenberg's. Unconsciously he dogged it into place. A steward brought brandy and glasses. The marine set up a collapsible table between them, then left.

  "The Grand Admiral all right?" Falkenberg asked.

  "He's hanging on," Grant said. He drew in a deep breath and let it out quickly. "Just barely, though. Despite everything Uncle Martin could do the budget's lower again this year-I can't stay here long, John. Another patrol, and it's getting harder to cover these unauthorized mission is in the log. Have you accomplished your job?"

  "Yeah. Went quicker than I thought- I've spent the last hundred hours wishing we'd arranged to have you arrive sooner." He went to the screen controls on the cabin bulkhead.

  "Got that complaint signaled by a merchantman as we came in-surprised hell out of me. Here, let me get that, the code's a bit tricky." Grant played with the controls until New Washington's inhabited areas showed on the screen.