“Thank you,” the President said. I wondered if he’d believed everything I’d said, or if he harboured doubts. “Do you regret the UN’s fall?”
I hesitated. “I used to think that I was part of something greater than myself,” I said, finally. “Now…I realised fairly early on that all we were was a tool of oppression and most of us just fought for pay anyway. There were no grand causes, nothing to fire the blood, just money. It wasn't that hard to make the switch to doing it openly and accepting your money. Other planets have loyalty and causes worth fighting for, but the UN never had. It’s hard to believe in a greater cause when you’re wading through the blood of slaughtered children.”
“I understand,” the President said. He looked weaker by the second. “I had to order strikes that took out – killed – innocents in the crossfire. I used to hate myself for it, but I kept telling myself that the ends justified the means and everything we did served a useful and necessary purpose. And, in the UN, someone hundreds of light years away ended the war without any help from us. They call me the saviour of the planet and they have great difficulty finding anyone to stand against me for President, but what happens when I die?”
“Good question,” I mused. The President could, in theory, stand for re-election until he died, but I doubted he would stand for another term if he could avoid it. The elections might confirm him as President for another five years, but judging from his appearance, he probably wouldn’t live through them all. If the Progressives gained a decisive advantage in the Council, they might even try to weaken the President’s position still further, or worse, impeach him. The Communists already hated the President. They wouldn’t oppose him. “They might find someone else.”
“I used to tell myself that I could let go and nothing bad would happen,” the President continued. “Now, I feel as if I don’t dare let go, or the whole planet will come apart.”
“You’re probably right,” I said. I could be open with him, slightly. “My people believe that you’re looking at a major collapse within the next few years.”
“I know,” the President said. “Did they propose any solutions?”
I smiled. “You’ll have to send the unemployed out to the farms for training under supervision,” I said. “You’ll need a program of public works to improve the living conditions and the planet’s infrastructure. You’ll even need to expand the planet’s industry and energy sectors, which is something you desperately need. Your power shortage keeps you from developing into a properly developed planet.
“It might even get the Conservative and Progressive voting bases to get a good look at each other,” I added. “They might learn that the other side isn’t composed of monsters, or work-shy layabouts. It might help head off the coming disaster at the pass.”
“They’d never stand for it,” the President said. “There’s enough doubts about the army, let alone anything else. The Progressives would oppose sending people to the fields because it violates their rights; the Conservatives would oppose it because they’d see it as a dreadful mistake. They might even be right. The last bunch of people we sent out to the farms…well, only three of them ended up as proper farmers.”
“And you need to do something about the street toughs,” I added. “At the moment, they’re nothing, but a drain on your resources and a headache for the ordinary citizens. You should have them all rounded up and dumped in a work camp.”
“The trouble has been down since they started running into your soldiers,” the President said, wryly. “Of course, the Progressives are protesting that as well. The common people shouldn’t take the law into their own hands.”
“And so on, and so on,” I agreed. It seemed to be the only deterrent that had halted the street gangs in their tracks. The police weren’t allowed to do more than move them on and they often returned when the police left, intimidating the entire neighbourhood. My soldiers…well, they found the gangs, kicked the shit out of the ones stupid enough to stand and fight, and put the others to flight. Personally, I’d have rounded them all up and conscripted them, but the old arguments against conscription continued to apply. “They do need to be taught a lesson.”
“Yes,” the President said. He changed the subject abruptly, reaching into his briefcase. “I have something for you.”
He pulled out a small velvet box. I opened it and saw a pair of golden wings. “Mr President?”
“That’s the rank badge for a General,” the President said. “At the moment, according to the Rules of Engagement, you’re not actually a military officer on this world. You don’t have any legal authority to command our soldiers.” He nodded towards the box in my hand. “You do now.”
He held up a hand before I could speak. “You’re not from here and you understand our problems better than most of the people here,” he admitted. “Lennart is going to be retiring in the next few weeks – he doesn’t want to serve under a Progressive Government – and I decided to use my authority to promote you into his place. You may find it useful.”
I stared down at the badge. “Fleet…”
“Fleet will accept it if we commission you under specific conditions,” the President said. I suspected – hoped – that he’d consulted with Fleet before giving me the badge. “We have a month before the election, when everything changes. By then, I want you to be ready.”
“Mr President?” I asked. “What should we be ready for?”
“Anything,” he said. “Whatever happens…we have to be ready.”
Chapter Eight
The UN maintained a touching faith in elections, despite the development of a system that ensured that the average voter’s vote counted for nothing, and insisted on universal suffrage on every world it controlled. Although they intended to use it as a control method – divide and rule, in this case – many worlds accepted the right to vote…and even took it as the right to vote against the UN. This was not, of course, acceptable. In the long run, no pretence at anything, but a dictatorship would have worked.
-The Secret History of Svergie
I had been nervously expecting trouble on Election Day. The grapevine among the other mercenary companies – although I would not have willingly classed myself among their number – suggested that elections could be deadly dangerous, particularly if the political situation was volatile. I cancelled all leave, kept the troops on alert, and waited for the explosion. Nothing happened. The voters flocked to the voting booths, watched by the local reporters who made a habit of filming brief interviews with the voters after they left the booth, and politicians made their final speeches. It was surprisingly peaceful. A handful of bar fights broke out afterwards in the darker areas of New Copenhagen, but the police broke them up without trouble.
“The real trouble will probably come when they finish counting the votes,” TechnoMage commented, and he was right. The Svergie Constitution ordained a day for the election and another day for the votes to be counted up, with Inauguration Day following two days afterwards. I kept a close eye on the reporters as they counted results, cursing whoever had invented the system under my breath. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the Progressives had swept the board.
The system probably hadn’t been rigged by design, but that was the general result. The Councillors won by right of majority; a Councillor could be one vote ahead of his opponent and still win with ease. Worse – if that were possible – all of the political parties, and not a few independents, were standing for election in each of the voting districts. The vote was going to be bitterly divided, I decided. It was quite possible that someone would be voted into power with only twenty percent of the population behind him. Given careful planning and not a little deviousness, the political parties could position their resources for the greatest effect, but some were more successful than others. The Progressives and Communists were unpopular out in the rural areas, while the Conservatives were grossly unwelcome in the lower-class districts. The more I thought about it, the more I realised the irony
. The original inhabitants of the planet had created a system that allowed their planet to be stolen from right under their collective nose.
“The Progressives seem to have won twelve seats for definite and probably two more when they finish counting,” Russell said. Democracy is almost a religion on Heinlein – which I always thought was a little odd, seeing that each voter had to endure two years of military service to earn the franchise – and he was enjoying watching a very different democracy at work. I had a private theory that he was secretly taking notes for a research paper after he gave up the mercenary business. “They’re the winners, boss.”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I expected as much.”
“The odd thing is who didn’t get elected,” Russell added. “The Communists lost their seat to the Progressives and a couple of independents got elected. They’re calling for a recount now and shaking their fists, but unless there was massive fraud on a citywide scale I think they’re going to be refused. They’re not going to take this lying down.”
I ran my hand through my hair. I’d actually allowed it to grow out too far over the last few weeks and I hadn’t had time to go for a haircut. I should have gone to one of the training barbers, but I had my pride, damn it! Russell was right, of course; hell hath no fury like a group of political radicals convinced that ‘The Man’ had deprived them of their rightful place.
“They might decide to cause trouble,” I agreed. It wasn't easy to see which way they’d jump. Would they remain quiet and support the Progressives, or would they see the Progressives as a sell-out and start a civil war? There was no way to know what their leadership was thinking, but I doubted that it was anything calm and tranquil. The Communist Militia – or the Vanguard of Workers Freedom, as they called it – was still drilling with captured UN weapons. I doubted they’d be a real threat in the open, but as a terrorist force they could be formidable. “Get the intelligence staff to keep a close eye on them and warn me if they look like they’re going to do something stupid.”
It took them another day to make it official, but the results weren't really in doubt. The Progressives had claimed fourteen seats, with another five going to the Conservatives, one to the Liberty Party and one to an independent. I made a mental note to try to speak to that independent as soon as possible; I wouldn’t have put it past the Communists, or someone else, to have him assassinated just to reopen the seat. Svergie had no automatic system of succession for Councillors; they’d have to go through an emergency election to select his successor. Perhaps he'd be interested in a bodyguard and some personal protection.
Suki seemed to take the news with remarkable dispassion. Her brief stint on the training ground had convinced her that regular exercise was more than just healthy and when I didn’t need her, she was often to be found training with one of the female unarmed combat experts or practicing on the shooting range. I had grown quite fond of her in a way, although I refused to allow her through my defences, or accepted her offers of companionship in the night. I still wasn't sure just who she was working for, or what her orders might have been. She didn’t seem to be sending any messages off-base, but that proved nothing. There were plenty of clever spies out there.
“They’re inviting you and a couple of your men to watch the inauguration ceremony,” she said, when she came bursting into my office. She wasn't much good at the clerical work, but she could handle almost everything else I might want her to do. We’d also started training up a staff of local clerks to assist with building the army, although I had made it damn clear that they weren't commissioned officers and never would be commissioned officers unless they went through Basic Training and served a term in the infantry. “Are you going to go?”
“I don’t seem to have a choice,” I said, curtly. The President’s gift of General’s rank was something of a double-edged sword. It made me senior officer in the planetary army, but at the same time it doubled my duties, not least because I couldn’t combine my roles. If I had integrated the Legio Exheres into Svergie’s Planetary Army, we’d lose all of our independence. Fleet would not be amused. John would definitely not be amused. It also meant that I had to attend ceremonies that meant nothing to me. At least no one had asked me to kiss babies.
“You could spend the day at the beach instead,” Suki suggested, with a wink that probably qualified as a lethal weapon on some more conservative worlds. “Take the day off and enjoy yourself.”
I snorted. “If we get through the next week without violence, I’ll seriously consider it,” I promised. I was overdue for a holiday myself and, unlike the lower ranks, I couldn’t go out and pick fights with the street toughs. The only relief I had was sparring with Peter, Russell and Ed and there was nothing unpredictable in that. “A time to relax would be lovely.”
Inauguration Day dawned brightly as the city came to a halt. The day was a planetary holiday almost everywhere – the staff at hospitals and other critical posts were not allowed to take the day off – and most of the streets were full of people partying. The massive government-issue car that had been sent for me, Peter and Suki – I’d decided to take her purely on the spur of the moment – had problems negotiating its way through the crowded streets. I saw happy young men and women courting in the sunlight, some of them making it all the way to third base in the shadows, while entertainers danced and sang old songs in a language I didn’t recognise. A handful of costumed characters paraded past the car, followed by hundreds of children grasping sweets, and I felt my heart twist suddenly. On Earth, there had been no time to be a child, with all that that implied. I had never played without fear, or walked to school without escort, but on Svergie children could sing and play as much as they liked. What would I have been, I wondered, if I had grown up in an environment that was truly safe?
“There’s no point in worrying about what might have been,” Peter said, when I expressed my thoughts aloud. “Besides, would you want to follow a giant cuddly bear with very little brain?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, shaking my head. The children following the bear, even the younger teenage girls, showed no sign of fear. The teens wore skirts that would have been an open invitation to rape on Earth, but here…here, it was safe. I felt another pang for the boy I could have been and silently cursed the UN under my breath. Earth was entering terminal decline. I wouldn’t have gone back there if they’d paid me with enough coin to buy a whole planet.
“That’s sad,” Suki said, seriously. “Everyone says that Earth is a paradise.”
I snorted. “Have you ever been there?” She shook her head. “I had two sisters when I was a boy. They were both raped several times as they entered their teens. They were lucky; they didn’t get pregnant. They all knew who did it, but when my sister took it to the police, they raped her as well. My younger sister married when she was fourteen and had a child a year until she was twenty-five. Three of them died before they reached their first birthday because of poor medical treatment. The others probably died when Earth started to come apart at the seams.”
Suki stared at me, her face torn by outright horror. “But…that’s terrible!”
“Yes,” I said darkly. The irony was that there were people with far worse stories than I. “It also happened.”
She was silent as the car finally drew into the Inauguration Stadium. It had been built during happier times and served only one purpose, a place where the new candidates could take their seats and be applauded by the people, even those who had voted for the other guy. The building behind it served as the first ceremonial meeting place and was, I think, the tallest building in the city. The hordes of reporters surrounding it looked large enough to occupy the entire building all by themselves. I spotted hundreds of policemen trying vainly to keep order and a handful of soldiers from the 1st Svergie. I’d tried to talk the President into having more security, but he’d refused, citing concerns about not appearing a dictator. The entire building was far too open for me.
“Try to
keep a smile on your face,” I said, as the car parked, exposing us to the lenses of the cameramen. I’d have preferred to avoid photographs entirely, but it would have been impossible, unless I ordered some of the cameramen killed. They weren't UN-approved reporters, to be fair, but they seemed to have the same pushy personality, although they did have more basic intelligence. The UN reporters tended to write their stories before actually finding out anything about what was going on, or why. If truth happened to disagree with their written work…well, so what? “Failing that, try not to kill anyone.”
Suki slipped her hand into mine as the flashbulbs flickered. It was another reminder of how primitive Svergie actually was; they didn’t have holographic cameras or even equipment that didn’t need flashlights. They were even back to using newspapers rather than datapads, although they had an expanding television industry. They’d probably reinvent plenty of other technology in the near future. Her dress was cut so short that they probably got an eyeful every time she bent over even slightly. I hoped they enjoyed the view. My own stunning good looks couldn’t compete.
Picking Up The Pieces (Martial Law) Page 8
