by Peter Grant
Rostam asked, “What if we can find some former rebel leaders on Termaz to quibble about the documentary’s claims? They might argue it was produced from a partisan perspective, or overstates the extent of the problem, or something like that. We obviously won’t be able to get away with denying that atrocities took place, but can we mitigate their impact on public opinion in that way?”
“It’s not a bad idea, Your Majesty. It probably won’t be enough to stop sanctions being approved, but it might be a useful argument against excessive severity or military enforcement. In almost half the cases where the UP’s imposed sanctions, an embargo was enforced by military patrols, basically shutting down interplanetary commerce to the nation concerned. That would cripple us, and of course it’d make our position on Termaz completely untenable. If we can produce arguments from known rebel leaders claiming that things there aren’t as black as they’re being painted by their Government-in-Exile, that might help us avoid or mitigate that degree of enforcement.”
The Defense Minister nodded vigorously. “That’s a very important point, Your Majesty. If we face embargo, we’ll have no choice but to begin evacuating all our people from Termaz right away. It’ll take six months of shuttle trips by every available freighter to bring back all our people, military and civilian, and another six months to return all the equipment we’ve sent there.”
Rostam frowned. “Even if that becomes necessary, we also need our freighters to maintain normal interplanetary trade. We can’t afford to shut that down in order to evacuate Termaz.”
“Then we’d have to charter more freighters from somewhere, Your Majesty. Let’s hope it doesn’t become necessary.” He paused. “What worries me most, even more than the thought of sanctions, is that our people were officially assured that our armed forces had caused minimal casualties among the civilian population of Termaz. The vast majority of them were blamed on the accidental crash of a spaceship and ‘indiscriminate fire’ by ‘poorly trained’ and ‘inept’ defenders. It now seems those assurances may have been lies from beginning to end – yet I’m supposed to supervise the armed forces that issued them. How can I trust our Generals any longer? Most of them were actively involved in the campaign there, and were promoted to their present ranks and positions as a result of that experience. My initial inclination is to dismiss the lot of them, but if I do that, they’re bound to intrigue against you and spread disaffection throughout the armed forces. I don’t know how to deal with this.”
“That makes two of us,” the Satrap replied grimly
“Won’t they claim that they were following the orders of your grandfather, the late Satrap Tepe, Your Majesty?” the Foreign Minister asked. “I don’t know whether his private archive contains any references to such incidents.”
“Neither do I, but rest assured, I’m going to find out! If I find anything to suggest that any of our senior officers knowingly carried out such attacks, I’ll court-martial them. However, I can’t do so without evidence; and my grandfather was a canny old bastard. He’ll have taken good care to ensure that posterity can’t point a finger at him for anything that may have happened on Termaz. There may be no surviving evidence of atrocities in the Royal Archives. Griga, I want you to check Defense Ministry archives as well, but you may find the same problem. If so, we’ll be at an impasse.”
“Why not use the evidence the rebels have provided in their book and documentary?” the Defense Minister suggested.
Rostam laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Can you imagine the fun defense counsel would have in a court-martial, challenging the accuracy and admissibility of evidence provided by an enemy who’s still engaged in hostilities against us? The charges would be dismissed on the spot.”
“I take your point, Your Majesty.”
“So what can we do about the Generals, Your Majesty?” the Foreign Minister asked.
“Right now, I don’t know, Simar. I just don’t know.”
~ ~ ~
ENTERTAINMENT DISTRICT, SODIA
The conspirators sat in stunned silence as the final moments of the documentary played, and the credits rolled. Khanoum shut off the recording with an impatient gesture.
“Filth! Lies!” he grated furiously. “How can they expect anyone to believe such nonsense?”
The Army and SS Generals looked at one another silently. At last the black-uniformed General Gedrosia said slowly, “I profoundly regret to inform you, Wazir, that it isn’t nonsense. Most of those allegations were true.”
The nobleman gaped at him in real shock. “The destruction of their capital?” The SS officer nodded. “The wiping out of civilian communities suspected of harboring rebels?” Nod. “Working tens of thousands of slave laborers to death?” Nod. “But… but why? Why were we not told?”
“You were told as much as the late Satrap Tepe would allow us to tell you, Wazir. We were under strict orders never to discuss the truth, even amongst ourselves.”
His colleagues nodded in unison. “Those were our orders, too,” Demetrius averred. “I was only a Brigadier-General at the time, so I wasn’t party to everything that went on, but after I came back here on promotion I tried to raise the matter with my predecessor. He cut me off at the knees – refused to talk about it at all and threatened me with a secret court-martial and the end of my career if I disobeyed. He told me that’s what Satrap Tepe had ordered.”
Khanoum sank back into his chair, shaking his head. “If… if those were your orders, I can understand you obeying them… but how could the Satrap deceive his own nobles?”
“With respect, Wazir, I think you’re missing the point.” Major Kadeh spoke politely, but firmly. “There’s an old saying: ‘three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead’. In a matter as sensitive as this, I don’t think the late Satrap Tepe would have dared disregard that.” There were vigorous and approving nods from all the senior officers. “Just look at the damage this will probably inflict on us now that it’s come out. The Satrap wanted to avoid that ever happening; and I suspect the only way he could think of to do that was to prevent anyone from learning the truth.”
“I suppose you’re right. Thank you for reminding me of that.”
“There’s more, Wazir.” Kadeh sat forward, looking around earnestly at each of the others in turn. “We must tread even more lightly and carefully in our preparations, because these disclosures make us more vulnerable. If we act against the Satrap before this news becomes public, when it comes out we’ll be accused of having done so to avoid punishment for our part in these acts. That would destroy our credibility at once.”
“But if it doesn’t come out on Bactria, that won’t matter,” Colonel Arachosia reminded him. “You told us the Satrap wants to keep this news tightly held.”
The Guardsman snorted. “Oh, come on, Sir! I managed to make a copy of the documentary this afternoon, to bring to our meeting tonight. I’m not the only person in the Royal Palace with that level of access. If I did it, how many others have done the same by now? I’ll bet a year of my salary against an hour of yours that by the end of this month, a hundred people will have seen the documentary. By the end of the year, I’ll be astonished if the number isn’t over a thousand. Sooner or later it’ll become common knowledge.”
“He’s right,” General Demetrias said abruptly. “By the way, Major, we’re very grateful to you for risking your safety to make that copy and bring it to us tonight.” A rumble of agreement ran around the table. “By doing so on the same day the Satrap and War Cabinet learned of its existence, you’ve given us time to prepare counter-measures in case they try to use it against us.”
“How could they do that?” the Wazir asked, puzzled.
“The documentary identifies dates, times, places and the names of those in command during various alleged ‘atrocities’. That will help narrow down the search of anyone looking through our own records covering the same period. We know the Satrap’s archives were scrubbed of all reference to such matters. I was involved in doing the
same to the Army’s and Defense Ministry’s records. I presume something similar was done at State Security?” He looked inquiringly at General Gedrosia, who nodded wordlessly. “Good. However, we kept a confidential archive in a backup location containing all of our deleted material, for future reference in case of need. I think we’ll now have to destroy that entirely to prevent its discovery, even at the cost of losing historically important material.”
“I’ll make sure we do the same,” Gedrosia agreed. “It’s a pity, but it can’t be helped.”
“What do you think this will mean for our plans, Wazir?” Major-General Pamir asked.
Khanoum frowned. “It means nothing good in the short term, I fear, but it may prove very useful in the longer term. Think about it. This is undoubtedly going to cause enormous harm to Bactria. The Satrap and his Cabinet will do whatever they can to counter that, but it’s unlikely to make much of a difference. Whoever’s in charge over the next two to three years is going to be blamed in at least some measure for the resulting economic hardship. We don’t want that to be us. Therefore, we may have to let matters run their course, allow the Satrap to be blamed for whatever ensues, then act to ‘rescue’ Bactria from the mire into which she will have sunk by then. In that way we’ll appear as saviors rather than traitors to the vast majority of our people.”
“A very good point indeed, Wazir,” Major Kadeh said slowly, reflectively. “We might want to take that further. We might be well advised to avoid destabilizing the Satrap and his Ministers in the short term. After all, as you say, we want them to remain in power, to take the blame for problems that arise. We might even assist them in critical areas – indirectly, of course, and very discreetly – in order to make sure there’s still an adequate infrastructure to support us when we take over.”
“And those, too, are very good points, my friend,” the Wazir praised. “General Demetrias has already thanked you for bringing the documentary to us tonight. Now you’ve made another valuable contribution. I think I must express my appreciation in concrete terms. I have an estate on the coast, about ten kilometers outside Sodia. It’s a comfortable manor house on a headland, surrounded by a few hectares of woodland and an inland farm. It’s yours, my dear Major, along with sufficient funds for its upkeep. I’ll have my lawyers start the transfer paperwork first thing in the morning.”
Kadeh flushed. “Thank you very much, Wazir, but that’s not necessary.”
“On the contrary. Rewarding good and faithful service is always necessary,” the nobleman said firmly. Another murmur of approval and agreement ran round the room.
Looking around at the traitorous team he’d assembled, the Wazir thought, Keeping the Satrap in power to take the blame is all very well, but ultimately he’ll have to go. He’s not malleable enough to accept our direction for long, no matter how strong our hold over him. I’ll have to start considering potential successors, to see who’ll prove most amenable to our direction when the time comes.
His thoughts were interrupted by General Gedrosia. “Should I renew efforts to target the rebel delegation on Neue Helvetica? Their last attempt failed when the team was killed in a car accident. I only found out about that last week – we had no-one else there to report it to us – so I’m in the process of assembling a new team to replace them. It’ll take time to smuggle them onto the planet, but when they finally get there they can try again. If we assassinate some of the rebel leaders, that should disrupt the activities of their Government-in-Exile for some time. That will help the Satrap and his Ministers to deal with the threat they pose.”
Demetrias said approvingly, “I think that might be very useful, provided we don’t risk another Consulate-type debacle.”
“I’ll order my team to make no mistakes.” He took a printed photograph from his pocket. “I sent a team to Marano as well. The Navy asked us to keep an eye on the progress of our arms order and make sure they don’t try to fob us off with substandard refurbished equipment. Yesterday I received this from the leader of my team there.” He passed the photograph around the table. “It was taken at a restaurant on the Elevator Terminal orbiting the planet.”
Pamir stared, then gasped, “That’s the rebel President Pro Tem!”
“Indeed it is; and why do you think he was at Marano?”
Three voices spoke as one. “Buying weapons!”
“Precisely. Marano sells arms to almost all comers, provided they have money. My agent reported that Carson met with a representative from a major weapons broker. He saw a sheaf of papers change hands, presumably interplanetary bearer bank drafts.”
“What has he bought?” the Wazir asked, his voice angry.
“We don’t know yet, but my people are doing their best to find out.”
“Then by all means let’s remove him from the equation, and as many of his colleagues as you can manage. Do you think your team on Marano can target him if he goes back there?”
“I’ll send orders to them at once. They may be able to bribe the weapons broker to arrange a suitable rendezvous where they can get at him. Such men are seldom honest.”
“That’s a good idea. Did you ever find out more about what happened to his father?”
“Regrettably, no. The Army report stated simply that the airvan in which he was a passenger crashed in rough terrain soon after takeoff with the loss of everyone on board, probably as the result of high winds in the vicinity. They didn’t conduct autopsies because most of the bodies – it would be more accurate to say ‘body parts’ – were badly mutilated. The recovery party simply gathered them up and disposed of them on site using crematory bags. I wasn’t happy about that – I’d have liked our investigators to have access to them and the wreckage, to see if they could learn anything – but unfortunately that wasn’t possible in the time available. The heat of summer made it impossible to store the bodies in the absence of mortuary facilities. They buried Major Carson at the prison camp, and our people at the War Memorial outside Tapuria.”
“A pity. It would have been very useful to be able to use the rebel President’s father as a lever against his son.”
“I’m considering whether we might still be able to do that. After all, he probably doesn’t know yet that his father is dead. On the other hand, there’s no indication that he knew his father was still alive. He may have assumed he’d died in the assault on Tapuria last year.”
The Wazir nodded. “Well, if you kill him the point will become moot. I presume you won’t bother the Satrap with that suggestion?”
“Why should I? He doesn’t trust us, and we don’t trust him. I’ll act in what I believe to be the best interests of Bactria – after discussing them with you, of course. I know you all have those interests at heart.”
“Thank you, General. You’re very considerate to include us. Is everyone agreed that a few dead rebel leaders will be useful to our cause?” Heads nodded around the table. “Then please proceed with your plans. Let’s consider ways in which the rest of us can implement Major Kadeh’s very useful suggestions.”
Laredo: December 14-19 2851 GSC
PRISON CAMP #3, NEAR CARISTO
Major Tredegar glanced around casually. His team were all in position, apparently standing casually in random positions around the prison camp yard, but in reality covering all sides of a carefully calculated area. For the benefit of the guards they pretended to talk with friends, bounced a ball off the hard dirt, did physical exercises, or simply sat and read a book.
He checked his timepiece. One minute to go. Casually he reached up and adjusted the knitted cap covering his head. Now, instead of being level, it slanted slightly to one side, covering the top half of his right ear. He turned in place, apparently looking up at the hills all around the camp. As the prisoners noted his cap’s new position, they paid extra attention to their duties.
Right on time, a small disturbance appeared in the rocky soil a little to the right of center of the designated area. Three of the watchers instantly signaled as they�
��d been trained – pulling at their ear, rubbing their nose, scuffing their foot. A thin dirt-colored rod showed itself for an instant above the soil, then was as quickly withdrawn.
Tredegar sighed with relief. It looked as if Operation Delve had been entirely successful – so far, at any rate. He pulled his hat straight as he turned towards the perimeter. He’d walk around the warning wire for a few circuits while his team carefully estimated angles, paced off distances, and made sure they could pinpoint as accurately as possible where the breakthrough had occurred.
~ ~ ~
“I passed the coordinates by semaphore, Sir,” Lieutenant Kubicka told him in a low voice over supper that evening.
“They acknowledged?”
“Yes, Sir. Look for them at midnight on the sixteenth. They’ll have a wire laid and ready.”
“Thanks be to God! It’s been so long!”
“With a little bit of luck, Sir, it won’t be much longer.”
~ ~ ~
The Major opened his bedroom door ten minutes before midnight, and looked down the corridor of his hut. Two watchers at either end gave him the high sign. They, and others watching covertly from the windows of their sleeping units, had not detected any roving Bactrian snoopers entering the compound. The duty watch were relying, as usual, on armed guards in the corner towers and electronic sensors monitored from the guardroom, sited to detect and monitor every movement inside the wire and listen for the tell-tale sounds of tunneling, in case the prisoners tried to dig their way to freedom through the rocky, unwelcoming soil.
