by Peter Grant
Smiles dawned on the faces of the military and SS officers. “That was very far-sighted of you, Wazir,” SS Colonel Arachosia declared. “I’m glad we have someone with your vision at the helm of our enterprise. I’d never have thought of that.”
“My family has helped rule Bactria for many generations. It’s not surprising that we’ve learned some of the pitfalls to power. On Old Home Earth, some centuries before the Space Age, a man named Machiavelli wrote a treatise on how to rule for the princes of his city-state. I sometimes think that I could produce a much more useful and realistic – not to mention ruthless – book using extracts from the journals of my ancestors. They had valuable lessons to impart, and I’ve done my best to take them to heart and apply them.”
“What about those nuclear space mines?” Major Kadeh asked. “If the rebels release them into our system, won’t it cripple our economy no matter how much you’ve stashed away in hidden reserves?”
Khanoum made a dismissive gesture. “Yes, it certainly will; but two can play at that game. We have some of the same mines in our orbital defenses. If we let the rebels know that any attempt to mine our system will meet an equal response from us, crippling their space-based economy and interplanetary commerce as surely as our own, I think they’ll see reason.”
“Should I suggest that to the Satrap at tomorrow’s War Council meeting?” Demetrias asked.
“Why not? In fact, it might be amusing to have the suggestion come from the Army rather than the Navy. You can score points off Rear-Admiral Stasanor in the process.”
The Wazir courteously escorted his guests to the door of the restaurant, exchanging polite goodbyes as they went out into the night. He lingered near the door until Major Kadeh slipped back inside, ten minutes later, and led him to his private office.
“Do you think the others suspect that we’re a conspiracy within a conspiracy?” the Major asked as he accepted a glass of the Wazir’s private brand of liqueur.
“I doubt it. They accept that you’re my protégé, of course – that’s been clear for some time now – but I think they assume I’m grooming you for promotion in our service after the coup. After all, what threat can a middle-ranking field officer in the Satrap’s Guard conceivably pose to the top commanders of the Army and the SS?” They grinned at each other.
“Let’s hope they go on thinking that way.”
“We’ll do our best to make sure that happens. Now, what do you have to report?”
“I’ve been making a nuisance of myself conducting snap inspections of security teams in the Satrap’s Palace. They hate me, but they’ve sharpened up a lot. More to the point, when they see me sneaking around they now assume I’m trying to catch another team being slack, so they no longer suspect I might be up to no good. That’s come in handy a few times already. Even better, the Colonel’s commended me for my ‘drive and initiative’ in improving Palace security.” They chuckled. “I don’t yet have enough time in grade to be promoted to command one of our two battalions, but think I might be in line to become the next Executive Officer of the Regiment, if I keep this up and play my cards right.”
“Excellent! That will be even more useful to us than commanding a battalion, because in an emergency you can give orders to both battalions in the Colonel’s name. They won’t find that strange. You’ll also be able to monitor all their activities, so you can keep us informed.” The Wazir shifted in his comfortable chair. “How are you enjoying your new estate?”
“Very much, thank you, Wazir. It’s far nicer than any home I’ve ever been able to afford before. My wife absolutely loves it, and it’s wonderful to be able to play with our children in such extensive grounds. We’ve only lived in apartments before. We’re all very grateful to you.”
“You’ve earned it, my dear Major. I’m very pleased to hear it’s to your liking.”
After Kadeh took his leave for the second time, the nobleman sat late into the night, thinking over the many threads in the web he was weaving, trying to assess how each of them was progressing, how it contributed to the overall plan, whether any of them needed to be strengthened or cut short in the light of changing circumstances. Major Kadeh was an indispensable part of his plans, but even so he’d made sure to assign many essential elements to others. There was no sense in allowing any individual – except himself – to understand the whole picture. That way, no one person could betray everything, and every critical component of the plan could have a backup.
In the small hours of the morning he came to a conclusion. The impact of United Planets sanctions is going to be worse than these officers suspect, he thought to himself. Our economy’s going to be shaken to its roots, and a lot of people will be thrown out of work. Add that to popular anger and resentment over the loss of Termaz, and I won’t be surprised to see rioting in the streets. We may have no choice but to strike swiftly to restore order, particularly if the Satrap won’t rule with the iron hand it’ll take to keep things under control. If so, we need him off-balance, unable to cope. How best to ensure that? Hmmm… yes… his son. We need to remove his spawn anyway, so there’s no-one to later challenge the successor we install. Losing him at the critical moment will render the Satrap grief-stricken, emotionally unstable, easier to deal with. I think I’ll have a word with General Gedrosia about that. He’s a man who understands the necessity for strong measures, even though they may be distasteful at times; and he’s convinced the Satrap backed the SS into a corner over that ‘rogue operator’ a few months ago. He’ll be willing to do what needs to be done.
Laredo: June 1 2852 GSC
The stars were fading in the half-light before dawn as Dave walked out of the farmhouse, carrying a briefcase. Brigadier-General Tredegar and Colonel Deacon walked with him.
“How long will you be gone, Sir?” Bill Deacon asked.
“Probably two months or more. I’ve got that rendezvous in deep space next week. After that I’m heading for Vesta, where our other two warships are waiting. They should have been converted by now to handle a hundred target missiles each. I’m going to send Freedom here right away to join Independence and bolster our local defenses. I’ll leave Liberty with Liberation at the dockyard to have her battle damage repaired, and for both ships to be equipped with our new missiles if all goes well. As soon as they’re ready, they’ll relieve Freedom and Independence to return to Vesta for re-equipping in their turn. I’m also going to ask our contacts at the Fleet dockyard to find us half a dozen personnel pods to fit one of our freighters. We’ll need to rig up at least one of them as an accommodation ship in orbit to help train all our new Spacers.”
Tredegar asked, “What about our three newly-acquired AMC’s?”
“They’re older ships and not in very good shape. If I can persuade the Lancastrians to refit and update them as part of their deal with us, I’ll do that, but in their original freighter configuration. We’re going to need transports very badly to get our space industries up and running. We didn’t have much in that line before, but given the devastation the war’s left behind on our planet we’re going to have to turn to our asteroids to reboot our economy. That means mining, interstellar freight and everything that goes with it. If the AMC’s can be refitted at reasonable cost, and not at our expense, I’m not going to turn down three free ships, that’s for sure! If they can’t, we’ll sell them for what they can fetch, and use the money to buy others more suitable for what we need.”
“Sounds logical. Where are you bound from Vesta?”
“I’ll head for Rolla to make sure our freight line is on the ball with all the shipments of food and ration packs that should be coming in from all over the settled galaxy. You did a great job there, Bill. If everything comes in as the vendors promised, we’ll be set fair until early next year; and I hope food donations from other planets will extend that by another six months at least. Hopefully the harvest this year will be enough to start building up local reserves, although I realize it won’t be nearly as good as before the invasio
n.”
Deacon nodded. “By the end of summer next year we should be able to produce enough food to support ourselves. I know Tamsin’s planning to ask for donations of machinery, fertilizer and other necessities to help us expand our farms.”
“With the help of a couple of orbital farms, yes, I think we’ll be all right. In case I’ve never told you, we couldn’t have got this far without you. You’ve been a tower of strength to me, and to all of us, in handling these infrastructure issues. I couldn’t possibly have gone running around as I have without knowing that you were backstopping me all the way on the administration and logistics side. If anyone deserves a medal for our liberation, you do.”
The Colonel actually blushed. “Hey, we all did our part. I’m just one of the cogs in the machine.”
“You’re a bloody big cog, and the machine wouldn’t work without you. However, I’ll stop embarrassing you.”
“Good!” They all laughed.
“I’ll tell our freight line to begin planning to move their operations here next year,” Dave continued. “I don’t want them to come until our warships have all been converted and we’re fairly sure we can protect our system from intruders. I’ll have Reliance – our fifth assault transport, the one we’re using as a depot ship for the four warships – come here right away, along with enough spares and supplies to keep them operational for the next year. The Lancastrians will send a number of their people aboard her to keep training our technicians. I hope there’ll also be a few patrol craft available soon, to carry out local patrols while our larger warships are busy elsewhere.
“From Rolla I’ll head for Neue Helvetica. The news media are sure to be screaming to talk to me. You’ll have some here by then, I’m sure, wanting the inside story of the Resistance over the past couple of years. I’ll leave you to deal with them as you see fit.”
Tredegar asked, “What are you going to do about the Government-in-Exile now that we’ve re-established an interim government here?”
“I’ll have to talk to them about that. Part of me wants to keep the Government-in-Exile going as a backup, in case the Bactrians have something nasty up their sleeve. On the other hand, that’s an expense I’m not sure we can afford. If Tamsin’s fund-raising efforts after our victory have been as successful as we hoped, I’ll leave her there to continue them. We desperately need as much money as we can get, and we can’t talk to donors from here. If she hasn’t raised much, I’ll shut down the Government-in-Exile and bring everyone back here except for our Embassy to the United Planets. I guess I’m saying ‘It depends’. I can’t say for sure right now what’s going to happen there.”
“That’s understandable.”
Bill said, longing in his voice, “Part of me really hopes you’ll shut it down, because then I’ll see Elisabeta and our kid sooner. On the other hand, I know she’s doing a really important job there. Just tell her I love her, please, and I’ll see her as soon as we can arrange it.”
“I’ll do that. I’m in the same boat with Tamsin and our children. I guess we’re going to have that problem until we settle our account with Bactria once and for all.”
“And when will we do that?” Tredegar asked.
Dave’s face turned grim. “It’s as I said to you after General Khan surrendered. We can only afford to continue this fight for another year at most, and that only by pinching every penny until it screams for mercy. Once the prisoners have been repatriated, there won’t be anything to stop Bactria getting feisty again if they want to – unless we shut them down once and for all.
“We fought a war to the knife on Laredo up to the Battle of Banka. By then our old blade – the Resistance – had been ground down to a nub. Since then we’ve forged a new blade, with a reborn Resistance here on Laredo and our warships and Government-in-Exile off-planet. That new blade’s just been tested and proven. Now we’re going to use our knife to the hilt – sink it into Bactria as deep as it can go. We’re going to hurt them so badly in their own system that they’ll never dare bother us again. We’re going to hit them so hard that Bactrian mothers will use Laredo as a threat to keep their children in line for generations to come. ‘Do as I say, or the Laredans will get you!’ That’s how badly I want them to fear us by the time we finish with them. It may cost us every warship we have, and everyone aboard them, but that’s a price I’m willing to pay if necessary.”
Tredegar and Deacon watched as Dave’s assault shuttle took flight, climbing steeply as it vanished into the lightening sky, heading for orbit. As the thunder of its reaction thrusters died away slowly, the newly-promoted Brigadier-General said softly, “Knife to the hilt, eh? I suppose that says it all.”
“It does, Sir,” Deacon confirmed soberly. “We didn’t start this war… but next year we’re going to finish it, or die trying!”
About The Author
Peter Grant was born and raised in Cape Town, South Africa. Between military service, the IT industry and humanitarian involvement, he traveled throughout sub-Saharan Africa before being ordained as a pastor. He later immigrated to the USA, where he worked as a pastor and prison chaplain until an injury forced his retirement. He is now a full-time writer, and married to a pilot from Alaska. They currently live in Tennessee.
See all of Peter’s books at his Amazon.com author page, or visit him at his blog, Bayou Renaissance Man, where you can also sign up for his mailing list to receive a monthly newsletter and be kept informed of upcoming books.
