by Peter Grant
“Oh?” Dave’s eyebrows rose again.
“Remember what we were discussing earlier, about how Rolla saw off an attack by Constandt de Bouff a few years ago?”
“Yes, when he tried to lob asteroids at Beaumont. Bastard! Reminds me of what Bactria did to our capital city, soon after they invaded. They crashed a spaceship into it at full throttle – wiped it off the map. My mother, brother and sister died in the fireball.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said very sincerely. “I guess you can understand how angry I was – how angry everyone on this planet was – when Constandt tried to do something similar to this city.”
“I sure can!”
“After we drove him off, Rolla put a reward of two hundred and fifty million credits on his head, dead or alive, subject to him being delivered here and his identity confirmed by DNA analysis. It includes a full pardon for any and all previous offenses to everyone who helps get him. It’s been officially endorsed by the Commonwealth, making it valid and binding on all of our member worlds, but we couldn’t get the rest of the interplanetary community to sign on. That takes a United Planets resolution. No-one’s claimed the reward yet. Constandt’s dropped out of sight, but we keep getting tantalizing hints through informants that he’s still out there. I want to use this operation to force him out of wherever he’s hiding.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if the hijackers of the Marano ferry were to ‘accidentally’ let it slip to the crew that Constandt de Bouff was behind the job? They’ll release them in a lifeboat before disappearing with the ferry, so they’ll spread the word as soon as they reach safety.”
Dave began to laugh. “Oh, boy! Marano will be baying for de Bouff’s hide. It’ll protest to the United Planets, where Rolla will be ready to remind everyone that there’s a honking great reward already out there for him. If the Commonwealth calls in a few favors, and Marano does the same, they might get the UP to ratify Rolla’s reward and pardon as binding throughout the settled galaxy. If they do, every member nation will spread the word about it.”
“That’s the idea. Right now de Bouff obviously has places where he can hide, almost certainly using a false identity. He’s done it before. However, if the UP passes that resolution his picture, DNA profile and other identifying information will be everywhere. Every criminal will know that by ratting him out, they’ll get a free pass for every crime they’ve ever committed, and be able to make a fresh start with enough money to do whatever they like. De Bouff will have to run for his life. He’ll never be able to feel safe anywhere again.”
“Couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy, if you ask me.”
“You said it! I want that bastard’s hide! He and his father caused the death of a man who took the place of the father I lost when I was five. I’ve never forgotten him. It’s because of him I’m making it a priority to fight piracy whenever and wherever I find it.”
“I can understand that. Hey, if we can tack that onto this deal, I’m all in favor.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because it’ll also give us the best cover story we could possibly want. If everyone’s blaming de Bouff – which they’ll be very willing to do, given his reputation – they won’t suspect the Dragon Tong, or Laredo’s Government-in-Exile, or BuIntel. Even if you’re later found to have some of the missiles and patrol craft, you can claim to have bought them on the open market. Of course, you didn’t know they were stolen, and you’ll have authentic-looking documentation from the seller.” Steve raised his eyes heavenward, trying – unsuccessfully – to look innocent and pious.
Dave started to laugh. “That’s a great fringe benefit. All right, we’ll do it.”
“Thank you. I’ll get a couple of messages off by tonight’s dispatch boat to Lancaster. One will tell my boss that we’ll be taking a bit longer on this trip than previously planned. Another will be to a contact, asking the Tong to set up a meeting with you on Marano to discuss this operation. If they accept the job, you’ll pay them a deposit there and forward the balance to an agreed destination.”
“You won’t be at the meeting?”
“No. Because I’m a Fleet officer, I can’t be seen to actively help organize a crime. Don’t forget, that’s what this is. Legally speaking, it’s piracy.”
Dave laughed again. “So you’re committing piracy to help bring a pirate to justice? That’s rich!”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“All right. What’s next?”
“We’re heading for Vesta to take a look at your ships, which are being modified and upgraded in a very private area of the Fleet dockyard there. After that we head for Marano, where you’ll meet with the Tong, as well as make the final payment for your laser cannon turrets and arrange to collect them in due course. How are you going to do that?”
“I’ve been wondering about that. I don’t want to use one of our converted assault transports. I’d rather no-one got a look at them just yet. I’m thinking of buying one or two tramp freighters. They can go anywhere and load anything without questions being asked. We can use them as tenders to supply our fighting ships at a rendezvous in space. What do you think?”
Steve grinned. “I think it’s a great idea. Good ones, about half a million net register tons, will cost twenty to thirty million credits each on the used market. As well as being anonymous, operating them will provide good training for your spacers while they wait for your converted ships to come on line. Why not set up a holding company right here on Rolla? Register yourself as its owner using the name on one of your off-planet false ID’s, and use that ID only for that purpose from now on. You’ll need a local partner to manage corporate affairs for you, but we can ask the System Patrol Service to recommend a trustworthy lawyer. You can have a broker at Vesta keep an eye out for a couple of good ships, buy them, and send them here to be re-registered in your company’s name. They’ll be right on the spot for your trainee spacers to use.”
“That’s a great idea! I can use funds from my clandestine account to do all that, because I won’t be able to discuss it with the rest of the team until I get back.”
“Good. We’ll get all that done, get a good supper planetside, then head back to the ship. After that it’s hi-ho for Vesta, Marano, and your new life as an interstellar criminal.”
“I can hardly wait!”
Bactria: October 19-20 2851 GSC
SATRAP’S PALACE, SODIA
“Soldiers of Bactria! You can be proud of all you’ve achieved on Termaz. You return as heroes! We, your grateful people, welcome you with open arms. We know that the service you’ve rendered to the Satrapy on another planet will be renewed and intensified now that you’re back home, ready to pass on all you’ve learned to a new generation of soldiers.”
Zeba grinned tolerantly as they watched the news vid. “Rostam’s made that speech, or something like it, at least once a month recently. He must be getting awfully bored with it.” She clapped her hands twice, and the holographic display flickered and went out.
Gloria couldn’t help smiling at her hostess. “At least he looks like he means it. He’s not like some politicians I’ve known, smiling into your face while slipping a dagger between your ribs, metaphorically speaking.”
“Oh, he’s very sincere! We’ve brought back over five thousand troops so far. Coupling that with those we didn’t send after the Battle of Tapuria – the Army wanted ten thousand replacements, but my husband authorized only half that number – we’ve already reduced our forces on Termaz to about twenty thousand, of which a third are combat units and the rest support personnel. That’s more than enough to control such a peaceful planet. With your help, we’ll have them down to half that number by this time next year.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine saying such a thing while I was serving there, but things have changed remarkably since the big fight in Tapuria.”
“I think that’s largely due to you and your husband,” Gloria said sincerely. “You’re really working hard to change things
. I wish your husband had succeeded to the throne a long time ago! It might have prevented an awful lot of bloodshed.”
“Perhaps. We’ll never know.” Zeba shook her head. “Enough of that. We’ve got to deal with what is, rather than what might have been. Do you think you’ll be able to attract support for your program?”
“It’ll take time. So many people lost loved ones during the war years that it’s left a residue of grief, hatred, bitterness and suspicion. One can’t overcome that overnight.”
“No, of course not, but do you think anything can be done in the short term? The longer we leave such attitudes unchallenged, the more they’ll become entrenched and the harder it’ll be to uproot them later.”
“You’re right. I’m going to start by looking for kindred spirits. I think I may find some among those living in and around Banka – I mean, Tapuria. They aren’t its original occupants, of course; they’re former slave laborers brought there to help clean up the ruins. Even though they’ll bitterly resent the way your occupation authority treated them, I think they’ll listen when I point out that your husband is responsible for their improved conditions. They’ve had more contact with your people than those in isolated areas, and they’ll have learned that there are good and bad among them, just as there are in any group. If I can find some who’ll focus on the good, and try to persuade others to do the same, that’ll be the thin end of the wedge. I don’t know that we’ll ever persuade the diehards, but you have the same problem with some of your reactionaries, don’t you?”
Zeba’s lips pursed in bitter frustration. “They’re not so much a problem as a curse! They have a lock on public opinion among the traditionalists, not least because they control a lot of news media. You’ve seen the sort of propaganda they’re putting out. They’re very careful not to attack the Satrapy as an institution, but the current occupant of the Throne is another matter. They keep comparing his policies to those of his most famous and popular forebears, always to his detriment, even when the so-called ‘facts’ they portray are mostly made up out of whole cloth.”
“I’ve seen how upset they are over Rostam’s budget this year.”
“Oh, they’re frothing at the mouth! He not only gored a lot of fiscal sacred cows, he downright slaughtered several of them!” They giggled.
“I got the impression that the House of the People was more supportive of his reforms than the House of Nobles.”
“It is. His emphasis on reducing taxes and cutting expenditure is precisely what they’ve been wanting for years. Unfortunately, the nobles control a lot of heavy industry that relies on state expenditure, particularly defense, so Rostam’s cutbacks mean they’re hurting. They’re passing on the pain by laying off workers and cutting what they buy from small businesses, so that adds to the groundswell of resentment.”
Gloria shook her head. “It’s still hard for me to comprehend a privileged class that’s basically lorded it over the people as a whole since this place was colonized.”
“Our founders wanted to ‘recreate the glories of the ancient Bactrian Empire’, as they put it. I think it was an impossibly romantic and utterly impractical idea, but they were determined and they had enough money and support to found this nation. If the historical record is correct, we’ve evolved into something very different to the original – but don’t tell the nobles that! It would be the ultimate heresy!” They laughed together softly.
“Let’s get back to your program,” Zeba said at last. “I don’t expect rapid progress at first, but please keep me as fully informed as possible. The Navy will allow you to deliver confidential dispatches directly to their ships’ Commanding Officers. They’ll hand them over to my representative here. That will hopefully stop State Security or anyone else interfering with them. We’ll have a direct channel of communication. I’ll send you regular updates on what I’m doing as well. I won’t be forming a political party, of course, but I’ll try to organize a social movement that will mobilize public opinion in support of peace and political reform. I’ll probably have to work more slowly than you do, because of not wanting to increase antagonism to my husband’s reforms.”
“I’ll do all I can to back you up on Termaz.” Gloria was sometimes surprised at how easily she’d come to use the Bactrian names for her planet and its capital city. It had been much less distasteful than she’d initially feared. “As soon as we have enough support I’ll announce the formation of a political party, independent of the Resistance, and call for local elections so we can have a voice in how our planet develops in future. If Rostam will then publicly agree to hold them on the basis of my request, that’ll give me a lot of credibility among potential voters.”
“You know the Resistance isn’t going to like that one little bit?”
Gloria shrugged. “They’ve already tried to kill me. I’m sure they’re going to try again. My husband died for what he believed in. Why should I be exempt from the same risk?”
Zeba’s eyes softened. “I can only admire your courage.”
“It’s not courage. It’s fatalism born of despair. If we let things go on as they have for years, we’re going to see an awful lot more dead on both sides, and many more widows, widowers and orphans. I’ve seen too many already. It’s time to make an end.”
“Yes, it is.” Her hostess rose to her feet. “I suppose I’d better let you go. Your baggage is already on the way to the spaceport. A shuttle of the Satrap’s Guard will fly you up to the ship. You’ll be back at Termaz in about twelve days.”
They hugged each other warmly. Gloria looked into her eyes. “You take care. I don’t want all our plans derailed because you or your husband get assassinated by disaffected nobles!”
“And don’t you let the Resistance shoot you. Martyrs are all very well, but they can’t get much work done!”
~ ~ ~
The insistent ringing of the bedside comm unit roused them from an exhausted sleep. Rostam rolled over and peered at the time display. “It’s two in the bloody morning!” He snatched up the handset. “What the hell is it at this ungodly hour?”
He listened for a moment, then sat bolt upright, eyes suddenly wide. “I see. Go on… How long until she reaches orbit?… No! Under no circumstances whatsoever is that material to be transmitted over any circuit! Quarantine the entire crew on board until further notice, and hand-deliver the entire Diplomatic Bag to me personally as quickly as possible… Yes, I know the Foreign Ministry will be upset. Tell them they can complain to me personally… Very well. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to discuss this with no-one. Don’t enter this call in the log, and delete any recording of it… Thank you. Goodnight.”
He replaced the handset slowly, brow furrowed. Beside him Zeba stroked his back. “What is it, darling?”
“We’ve got trouble,” he told her grimly. “You remember the book and documentary that the Laredans were said to be working on at Neue Helvetica?”
“Their project to document our so-called ‘atrocities’ on Termaz? Yes, I’d heard rumors about it. Is it out at last?”
“It’s not only out, it’s more serious than we could have imagined in our worst nightmares. They have vid footage of an astonishing number of things, including what they allege is the deliberate destruction of their capital city when we dived a spaceship into it at one-tenth of light speed.”
“But that was an accident! It was the crew’s fault! They tried to escape by slingshotting around the planet, and miscalculated their trajectory!”
“That’s what we were told at the time. It’s what I’ve always believed. However, the Laredans have in their possession what they claim is an original message from Major-General Strato to Brigadier-General Aldred, threatening to destroy Tapuria – Banka, as it then was – unless he surrendered immediately. They also claim to have recordings of intercepted radio conversations in which some of our senior officers discuss the strike. Finally, as if those weren’t bad enough, they salvaged vid recordings from a number of security cameras and oth
er devices that were running in Tapuria at the moment of its destruction. Apparently some of them are utterly horrifying. They’ve included excerpts in the documentary.”
His wife looked aghast as she sat up. “But… were we lied to? Did that really happen?”
“I… I just don’t know any more. I always believed the official version, but if that evidence is genuine…”
They looked at each other in stunned silence. At last she said quietly, almost desperately, “What if it is genuine? What will that mean for Bactria?”
“Disaster,” he said simply. “Calamity. Ruin. Think of any word meaning ‘catastrophe’ and it probably applies. The rebels appear to have kept some of the evidence confidential until their book and documentary were ready, so as to maximize its impact. Now they’ve made it all available to the United Planets inquiry into what we did on Termaz – not just copies, but originals. According to the dispatch boat’s captain, the book and documentary are selling like hot cakes and already spreading to other planets. He brought copies – we’ll get them in a few hours. Soon they’ll be all over the settled galaxy. If the UP declares that the evidence is authentic, the result’s a foregone conclusion. Bactria’s going to be a stench in the nostrils of decent people everywhere, and we’re almost sure to be charged with crimes against humanity by the UP General Assembly. If so, mandatory sanctions will probably follow.”
“What about direct action against us?”
“I don’t know. The UP may not be able to muster the votes or the budget to support that, but it can – it probably will – call on its members to recognize and support the rebels’ Government-in-Exile. That’ll open up massive new sources of funding and equipment for them. What’s more, if the sanctions against us are strict enough, sooner or later our ability to respond will be crippled.”
“How long do we have until the hammer comes down?”
He shrugged. “Probably a year or thereabouts. It’ll take the inquiry at least another six months to publish its findings and refer them to the General Assembly, which will take as long to decide what to do about it and pass a resolution. Our Ambassador to the UP will try to delay everything through procedural motions, objections and so on, but those can only slow down the process, not stop it.”
