by Mike Resnick
Then he was gone, leaving his ministers to cope with the problem.
24.
Within ten days of the cabinet meeting, some 400,000 troops marched out of Remus toward the Hills of Heaven with a single purpose: to kill James Krakanna and destroy his army.
They spent twenty days combing the countryside looking for any trace of Krakanna and his followers, and finding none. The local villages denied having any knowledge of his whereabouts; a few went so far as to disclaim any knowledge of Krakanna's existence. It was a twenty-day exercise in futility, broken only by the screams of the dying as the army marched over a dozen widely-dispersed and well-hidden minefields.
True to his word, Barioke dismissed every cabinet member from office thirty days after the meeting. Some were merely exiled; most disappeared, never to be seen again. The president, convinced that the villagers had lied to his soldiers, ordered every village they had visited to be destroyed as an example to any other jasons who might be inclined to protect Krakanna.
Krakanna remained invisible for the better part of two months, then launched a series of attacks on widely-dispersed and poorly-protected government and military outposts, adding appreciably to his munitions in the process. Word filtered through to Remus that his ragtag army was growing larger every day.
Barioke sent out another huge column of soldiers to find him, and Krakanna lured them further and further into the dense rain forests, then attacked individual units that had become separated from the main body of troops, and kept fighting his guerilla war until the army had to retreat.
Barioke discovered that Krakanna was a member of the Trajava, a tribal subgroup of the Traja, and had sent his army off to kill as many Trajava as it could find. More than a quarter of a million of Krakanna's tribesmen died before the few survivors were so dispersed that the army decided it was counter-productive to pursue them further.
Krakanna bided his time. Then, in an audacious nighttime raid, he and some of his followers snuck into Remus and destroyed the entire fleet of 46 spaceships, retreating before anyone realized they had ever been there.
Barioke offered enormous rewards for any information leading to Krakanna's capture. Not a single jason stepped forward, and in retaliation, Barioke announced that he would destroy one village a day, without regard to tribe or location, until Krakanna surrendered himself to the army in Remus. Krakanna sent a reply, never made public, that he would kill ten soldiers and two government officials for every jason that Barioke killed.
Barioke determined that the message had come from the rain forest surrounding the Hills of Heaven, and mobilized his entire army. Within four days the forest was totally surrounded, and the president gave the order to begin tightening the noose. All lines of communication with the outside world were cut off, all means of egress were closed, and the army began methodically dividing the enormous forest into manageable sections, thoroughly searching one before moving on to the next.
It was sound strategy, and it might have worked, given enough time.
But time was one thing William Barioke did not have. With his army occupied two thousand miles away, Romulus and Remus were defended by only a token force, and General Sibo Dushu, taking full advantage of the situation, swept down from the Great Northern Desert with the remnants of Gama Labu's army and took control of the twin capitols in less than a day.
Barioke was marched out in manacles to the city center, where the statue of Conrad Bland had once stood, and was publicly executed.
Dushu then announced that he would be happy to share power with Krakanna, invited him to come to Remus and help form a new government, vowed to transfer Barioke's private funds to the Faligor treasury, and insisted that the press sit in on every meeting he had, so that the populace would know that he wasn't just another in the line of egomaniacal dictators, but truly had the planet's best interests at heart.
Arthur Cartright was standing in the crowd that had gathered to hear Dushu speak. Though he still hoped for the best, and applauded politely at the proper points in the speech, this time he decided not to join the frantic cheering that followed the pronouncements.
Bookomark:Paty 4 — DUST
Part 4:
DUST
Interlude
You climb the scorched steps of the Parliament building, and when you reach the top, you stop and turn and look out on the broad thoroughfare, now littered with bodies. Gama Labu looked down from here once, and William Barioke, and Sibo Dushu, and you wonder what they saw? Was it cheering faces and a hopeful future that somehow went awry, or did they just see golden sheep, ripe for the slaughter?
There are no cheering throngs this time, no hopeful citizens lining the streets, no bureaucrats ready to rubber-stamp whatever the newest conqueror wants. There are just the dying and the dead, and the hungry avians circling overhead, as they once used to circle over the kills in the game parks.
You hear a noise behind you and turn to find an elderly jason, his clothing soaked with blood, staggering toward you. You go to him, catch him just before he collapses, and help ease him down to the marble flooring.
He opens his mouth and rasps out a word. It is in a dialect you do not understand, but you know he is asking for water, and you open your canteen and hold it to his lips. He takes two swallows, then leans back and looks up at you gratefully.
"Do you speak Terran?" you ask. "Are there any more of you inside?"
But he is unconscious now, and you enter the building, your footsteps echoing through the still, dead air. And as you walk you ask yourself why you are bothering. Worlds have traditions: for some it is industry, for others agriculture or art. But for Faligor the tradition is genocide.
You are only halfway through your search of the building when you hear your name being called, and you thankfully return to the sunlight. Your team has found five more survivors, all children, and you clamber down the stairs and prepare to go to work, wondering all the while if you are merely saving them for the next maniac to come along . . .
25.
Sibo Dushu didn't break his promises. In fact, he referred to them every day. He simply found it necessary to put them off until he could restore order—and since he had an army at his disposal, the restoration of order did very little to endear him to the populace.
He announced a curfew for every city under his control, and gave his soldiers shoot-to-kill orders for anyone breaking that curfew. Unfortunately for his public image, the first four people shot were two ambulance drivers, a doctor and a patient was being rushed to a Romulus hospital after dark.
That public image wasn't enhanced when a member of the Thosi tribe tried to assassinate him. Before anyone could work up much sympathy or outrage, his reprisal left more than two hundred thousand Thosi dead.
Since Faligor's money was still worthless, Dushu announced an innovative new tax: his soldiers would perform a methodical house-to-house (and hut-to-hut) search for items that could be sold for hard currency on those few worlds that were still willing to have commerce with Faligor. The penalty for refusing the search was death, and the penalty for not producing something worthwhile for the searchers was death or imprisonment, depending on the mood of the searchers. This instantly halved the unemployment rate in the cities and created an entirely new field of endeavor: thievery. Jasons robbed their neighbors, their stores, even their museums, in order to have something to give the soldiers when their domiciles were visited.
At the same time, Dushu kept calling upon James Krakanna to surrender his arms and join him at the conference table. Krakanna replied that any soldier or government employee who wandered more than thirty miles to the west of Remus would be shot on sight. Dushu wasn't much of a general, but he knew more about military tactics than Barioke, and he realized that he couldn't ferret out an entrenched guerilla army from the rain forest, so he settled for alternately threatening Krakanna and entreating him to join in the formation of the new government.
As Krakanna grew bolder and his raids more success
ful, Dushu became obsessed with him. Everyone knew that Krakanna's army was growing almost by the hour, but no one knew how large it was, how well-equipped it was, or even what Krakanna's eventual goals were. The new president ignored all the other problems facing him and concentrated on drawing Krakanna out into the open. Entire cities went without water and without power, roads went unpaved, even the spoils of his new "tax" remained in warehouses rather than being sold for hard currency.
As weeks passed and Dushu was still unable to obtain any information about Krakanna's strength or position, he concluded that an all-out attack was imminent, and pulled his army back to fortify Romulus and Remus. Any cities or villages that were loyal to him with have to fend for themselves; until he knew the size of the force he would be facing, he couldn't spare a single soldier for any of them.
Krakanna was silent for a week, then two weeks, then a month, and the tension in Romulus and Remus grew with each passing hour. Nervous soldiers shot each other in the night, supporters of Dushu locked themselves inside their homes, and Dushu himself went nowhere without an elite bodyguard of forty jasons.
Then, finally, Krakanna broke his long silence—but not to Sibo Dushu.
26.
Dear Susan:
Something has to be done. Dushu's reign promises to be even bloodier than the last two, difficult as that must be for you to comprehend. He's a disciple of Gama Labu, and he's taken over a world that has been so decimated and plundered by his predecessors that there is almost no opposition to him. The jasons have been beaten down, physically and spiritually, and can offer only token resistence.
There is only one hope for Faligor. I hesitate to suggest it, since I have so long opposed him, but James Krakanna is still out there in the forest, and rumor has it that his army is growing larger every day.
I mention this only because I received a curious letter, ostensibly asking me to meet with him. I cannot be sure of its authenticity, nor do I know why he should want to see me, but something has to be done, and so I have agreed.
His emissary is due to arrive momentarily. How we will make it through Dushu's lines to Krakanna's encampment I do not know, but I suppose if the emissary makes it to my house, there must be a way.
I have serious reservations about this meeting, but the alternative is to do nothing, and I have done nothing for too many years now. I cannot sit idly by and watch this planet raped and plundered a third time.
If you do not hear from me again, you will know that I was mistaken once again, but at least I died trying to help that once-beautiful world that I still love.
Love,
Arthur
27.
It took Cartright and his guide two days to make their way through Dushu's lines and into the massive forest that surrounded the Hills of Heaven. Cartright didn't see a single soldier, though he was certain that hundreds of them were watching them as they progressed deeper and deeper into the forest.
Finally the road ended, and they got out of their vehicle and left it behind. Since the guide seemed confident that there was no need to lock or hide it, Cartright didn't suggest that he do so.
They walked along a rough dirt path for a few miles, with Cartright stopping to rest every half hour.
"Is something wrong?" asked the guide after the fourth halt.
"No," said Cartright, leaning against the thick bole of a tree and trying to catch his breath. "I've just realized that I'm not as young and fit as I used to be."
The guide accomodated him by slowing the pace, and at noontime they came to an encampment in the midst of a large clearing. There were some fifteen tents, including a huge one that Cartright assumed must be Krakanna's. A number of jasons, some of them adult, most adolescents, were going about their chores, cleaning weapons, gathering firewood, policing the grounds.
Two small jason boys, both armed, were squatting down playing a game that involved a number of sticks and pebbles; when they saw Cartright, they immediately stood up and saluted. Cartright smiled at them, then realized as they remained rigid and motionless that they were waiting for him to return their salute. He did so, one of them smiled at him, and they went back to their game.
He was then ushered into a large tent, and he found himself face-to-face with a small, wiry, middle-aged jason who stood up to greet him.
"I am James Krakanna," he said, extending his hand. "I am very glad you decided to come, Mr. Cartright."
"I'll be very blunt with you, Mr. Krakanna," said Cartright, taking his hand. "You have done many things of which I disapprove. But you are opposed to Sibo Dushu, and for that reason alone, it would have been criminally irresponsible for me not to at least listen to what you have to say."
"Fair enough," said Krakanna. "I admire your honesty."
"To the best of my knowledge, we have never met before," continued Cartright. May I ask why you have sought me out?"
"We have never before met as equals," replied Krakanna, "but I have seen you many times. You were an important force in Faligor's history, Mr. Cartright, and now you are one of the last Men on the planet." He paused. "Our recent history is as much your doing as anyone's, and I thought you might like to help set things right."
"Now just a minute . . ." began Cartright heatedly.
"I make no accusations," interrupted Krakanna. "I place no blame. I do not question your love for Faligor. I only point out that prior to Man's attempts to shape us into your version of utopia, there was no carnage, there was no genocide, there was no Gama Labu or William Barioke or Sibo Dushu."
"We never meant for them to abuse their power," said Cartright.
"I know that. And yet they have abused it. The three of them have killed off very close to a third of our population. They have destroyed our economy, destroyed the fabric of our society, and alienated those worlds that might have been our friends. This is why I continue to wage war."
"With children," said Cartright disapprovingly.
"Look around you, Mr. Cartright," said Krakanna. "All that's left are children."
Cartright sighed deeply and considered the statement. "All right, Mr. Krakanna," he admitted. "You have a point."
"Please sit down, Mr. Cartright," said Krakanna, taking a chair for himself and indicating an empty one to Cartright, who gratefully walked over and sat on it. "I didn't send for you to make points, but to ask for your help. I am going to launch my attack on Dushu in about a month. I have bided my time, waiting until I knew there were no more tyrants lurking in the background. As far as I can tell, he is the last, and so my battle shall be with him. We will win, Mr. Cartright, but at enormous cost in life to both sides."
"How do I know you won't become just another tyrant after you win?" said Cartright, gratefully accepting a tall glass of water from an aide who entered the tent.
"You don't," replied Krakanna. "But you have free run of my camp, and I will see to it that you are given free passage to any area that is under my control. You may ask questions of anyone you encounter—soldier, villager, nomad, it makes no difference—and I will instruct your escorts to let you ask those questions in private. Before you leave, I want you to satisfy yourself that what I tell you now is the truth."
"That seems fair."
"It is essential that I be fair with you, Mr. Cartright," he said, "because I am going to make you do something you have never done before: I am going to make you choose between two sides and support one of them."
"I support whatever is best for Faligor," said Cartright.
"Empty words, Mr. Cartright. It is time for you to stop being a passive observer, and join the forces of Good against those of Evil. It is that simple."
"Nothing is ever that simple," said Cartright.
"This is," answered Krakanna forcefully. He paused for a moment, as if trying to order his thoughts. "I want you to know," he continued, "that not a single one of my followers has ever been paid so much as a single credit in salary, and yet we have not had any deserters in more than four years."
"H
ow do they live?"
"The same way we lived before you came to Faligor: off the land."
"How large is your army?" asked Cartright.
"Large enough for the task at hand. I also want it noted that we have never killed any moles or Men, and the only jasons we have killed have been those wearing the military uniforms of Barioke or Dushu, nor will we kill Dushu when we capture Remus."
"How can I prove that to my satisfaction?" asked Cartright. "Your soldiers will almost certainly support your statements."
"Ask any villager you come across. Offer my soldiers money to contradict what I have said. You are an intelligent man, Mr. Cartright; you will find ways to determine whether or not I am telling the truth."
"All right," said Cartright. "Let me grant for the moment that everything you have said is true. What does that have to do with me? I still don't know why you wanted to see me."
"I have been observing you for years, Mr. Cartright," said Krakanna, "and I have come to the conclusion that you are an honorable man. Not a practical or a realistic one, but an honorable one, which is sufficient for my purposes." He paused again, while Cartright tried to decide whether he had just been complimented or insulted. "The few doctors that were not killed by Labu and Barioke work in the cities; we do not have any medical personnel with our army. Our medical supplies, by which I mean those we have stolen, are minimal, and I suspect Dushu will destroy his own once he realizes that the battle is lost and my troops will soon be occupying both Romulus and Remus. Dushu has gathered all his troops around the two cities and this promises to be the bloodiest battle ever fought on this planet. A good many of the wounded on both sides will need expert medical attention, and this is where you come in."
