Ride of the Valkyries

by Stuart Slade

  "Are they going to destroy the whole country?" Vajpayee's voice trembled despite himself. "They can't, they couldn't, surely?"

  JBG seized the opportunity while the Ambassador was savoring her cheesecake. "They could, they can, but they won't. They'll destroy the industrial facilities and economic resources but they won't wipe the country from the map, not like they did with Germany. The Caliphate is too big. If they wiped it out completely, they'd drag the whole world down."

  The Ambassador's tongue darted delicately out and licked a tiny crumb from her upper lip. Her eyes were expressionless, unblinking, and combined with the gesture made her look like a strange, exotically poisonous snake. "That would not stop them. But the Americans are a practical people. They have a list of all the suspect facilities in the Satrapies of Iraq and Iran, and in Saudi Arabia. Those facilities are gone.

  "There are major air defense installations, in Bahrain and Qatar, those they will obliterate. They will mine the Straits of Hormuz, with nuclear mines of course, and cripple the Caliphate that way. But no, they will not destroy the whole country. President Nixon does not want to start his presidency with quite so many deaths."

  The room relaxed slightly. JBG seized the moment again, earning him a sideways glance from the Ambassador. "Which brings us to the main point of our meeting. The fighting in the South China Sea. It may be minor in comparison with what lies ahead for the Caliphate but it is serious none the less. It may even be that the Chipanese will seize this opportunity to spread the conflict while the Americans are distracted."

  Vajpayee shook his head. "We have not achieved all we hoped but we have done well. We won a naval battle despite what the public thinks and we have our troops holding Pattle Island. We hold the upper hand still."

  "You do now, yes." The Ambassador's voice was urgent. "But that is a declining asset. With your carrier torpedoed and out of the battle, you have no air cover in that area. The Chipanese have their seaplane fighters, Lord, how we underestimated them, and they have their Harry bombers. Soon, they will have air superiority and they will wear down your ships and your troops. You have the upper hand now, certainly. That means you must get the best deal you can. Now."

  "There is a deal on offer? I did not know this."

  "The Chipanese Legation in Washington has transmitted an offer to us, to Australia and to Thailand, for onward transmission to you. It is long but it comes down to this. If India withdraws its troops and recognizes Japanese sovereignty over the Southern Pescadores, not least by using that name from now on, the Chipanese Government will give India fishing rights in the area, 30 percent of the gas and oil exploration rights and they will allow you to put one weather station and one fisherman's refuge on one of the smaller islands of the group - provided they are civilian manned of course. It's a fair offer, Mister Prime Minister; it's a very fair offer and delay will only jeopardize it."

  "But we still have a naval presence and our troops on Pattle."

  "For how much longer? So far the honors are tilting your way, I agree. You have lost a destroyer, two frigates and an old transport. You have a carrier, a cruiser and three destroyers badly damaged. The Chipanese have lost a cruiser and five destroyers with a seaplane carrier, two cruisers and two more destroyers crippled. This is a very finite time though. Tonight, perhaps tomorrow night, the Chipanese will get to work. Their Harry bombers will start to pick off the anti-aircraft systems on Pattle. Their submarines and bombers will start hunting your surface ships. As your losses climb, the deal on offer will fade. I urge you to accept the deal offered now. You will not get a better one."

  "If you and the Australians had supported us as our treaty demands we would not be in this position. What use is a treaty that is not there when we need it? Perhaps we should reconsider the worth of this treaty."

  "The Americans made it clear they would be seriously displeased with any attempt by us to support you with military assets. To do so would be to widen the conflict and they will not have that. To quote their National Security Advisor, ‘We cannot prevent all wars but we can make sure that they stay little ones.' Instead, we have acted as brokers and won you an honest deal."

  Vajpayee nodded, reluctantly but none the less firmly. "Very well. Please advise the Chipanese Government that their offer is acceptable as a basis for negotiations."

  The Ambassador stood up. "Prime Minister, I am pleased to hear that. I will inform the Chipanese Embassy in my country immediately." She turned to leave the room but Vajpayee's voice stopped her.

  "Madam Ambassador, I'm afraid I don't know your name?"

  Her smile was bright, in stark contrast to the gathering gloom over the impending American strike on the Caliphate. "Very few people do."

  The Military Command Center, Dezful, Iran Satrapy, The Caliphate.

  By preference, Morteza Farzaneh was a historian. That was a hard and unforgiving choice for a society where history and theology were so tightly intermixed that the former was almost entirely a matter determined by the latter. Only, things were changing. For the first few years of its turbulent existence, the Caliphate had been governed by the Ruling Council, a group of theologians who drew their inspiration wholly from their interpretation of the Koran. As long as they had succeeded, their antiquated beliefs and anachronistic ideas had been accepted. "The Mandate of Heaven' thought Farzaneh, reflecting on an old Chinese concept that he was supposed to know nothing about. The idea that success meant approval from the gods while failure meant the gods were displeased. Enough failure and the ‘Mandate of Heaven' was deemed to have been withdrawn and the legitimacy of the government was forfeit.

  And the failures had come. First the idiotic fracas in the Mediterranean where the Caliphate had ended up on the wrong end of the American sledgehammer. They'd provoked the Americans for no reason and then been forced to back down. In the process, their failure had brought about penalties far beyond those demanded by the Americans. The strength and power of the Ruling Council had not laid in its religious appeal. In the fractious and disunited Caliphate, there were many schisms and sects that interpreted the Koran any way they wished. The strength of the council had been the troops they commanded; a core of hardened professional soldiers brought by Model. Those troops, loyal only to the Ruling Council had been the tool the Council had used to control its enemies. In the aftermath of the Mediterranean incident, those troops had gone.

  They had left behind the ‘Guardians of the Faith' the remains of the Einsatzgruppen who had converted to Islam. They had been the weapon the Council had used against the schisms and sects whose beliefs varied too far from those that the Council considered acceptable. Now, the ‘Guardians of the Faith' had gone too. Despite their fanatical belief in their new religion, their habits and customs had been all too westernized. In the end, they had become too much of a danger. On June, 15, 1968, there had been a second "Auspicious Incident" and they had been purged. Fanatical they may have been but 15 salvoes of artillery fire pumped into their quarters had ended them.

  Then there had been Algeria. It had seemed so easy, a country already torn apart by civil war, surely it was ripe for absorption? But Algeria had fought back; bad enough by itself, but they had fought back and won. The Muslims in Algeria had allied with the infidel French against the Caliphate and destroyed the claims of the Council to be the unified voice of Islam. With that news, the Ruling Council had lost its weight. It had become a walking corpse, awaiting only its death certificate.

  That was coming, Farzaneh knew it. He had known it the moment the plans for this assault on the Americans had been raised.

  The Council had seized on it as revenge for the Mediterranean disaster and added in their reprisal for Algeria's temerity in daring to resist them. When the possibility of an American counter-stroke was raised, it had been dismissed. Allah, they had said airily, would not permit it to succeed. And their plans had gone ahead.

  In the silent circles of technologists and administrators, the professionals at running countries who had
kept their heads down while the Ruling Council had passed its decrees and postured, that decision had been met with relief. The Mandate of Heaven was already in grave doubt, another blow would prove it had been withdrawn completely. The Ruling Council wouldn't fall, but it would be reduced to impotence. Then, the Caliphate could be rebuilt, to run as a country should be run. The American bombers would be the midwives that would bring about that rebirth.

  Residential Apartment, Georgetown, Washington D. C.

  Raven paused for a quick last look, using the polished steel of the elevator door as a mirror, then took a deep breath. It was time and she didn't want to be late. Anyway she was committed now so she went over to the apartment, and hesitated once more by checking the number against the paper she'd used to take down his address. Already, she was feeling out of place and had an urgent desire to leave. She'd got her best clothes out for this date, at least she supposed it was a date. A new blue-and-white check shirt from Kmart and a pair of new jeans. She'd indulged herself and bought a pair of Levis, instead of the store brand. Even though she hadn't seen anybody staring at her, she'd still imagined people's eyes on her back and the comments ‘what's she doing here?'

  That was strange, the door was open. She'd been expecting to have to wait outside if he wasn't in. She pushed it, and stepped inside, then stopped dead. A blonde woman was inside, sorting papers out on the table. After a quick second of stunned surprise, Raven's face tightened with anger and she turned to leave. A voice stopped her.

  "Oh, hi Raven. You here to see The Seer?"

  "I was, yes. But don't worry, I'll get out of your way." Her voice dripped acid and she turned to leave again.

  "No need, I'll be finished here in a moment. I'm just dropping some papers from the Department of Defense off for him to read before tomorrow. We have met, haven't we? I'm Inanna."

  "Yes, we have." Raven's voice was sharp and hard. Inanna smiled gently in response.

  "Don't worry, I won't spoil your date. He won't read this lot until tonight and he's a fast study. Where're you two going."

  Raven couldn't hold her anger in the face of that genial smile. It sort of shriveled up inside her, leaving a void where it had previously flared. "I don't know. I hope it's nowhere dressy." Then she crumpled a little, her fears got the better of her, and her voice was tiny. "These are the best clothes I have."

  Inanna looked down at the tailored, Italian designer silk suit she was wearing, and a burst of understanding opened her eyes. Raven was alone and probably frightened. She, almost certainly, had never been part of the Washington social scene and the poor girl had scared herself stiff. Not of the scene itself; but of doing something wrong and making herself look foolish. And, she probably thought Inanna was the Seer's partner and the Seer was planning to cheat on her. Time for some reassurance.

  "Raven, how did you get here?"

  "Gusoyn drove me. The Seer asked him to bring me over."

  "Is he still down there?"

  "I think so. He said he had to wait for somebody."

  "That's me, then. Look, we've got a few minutes and Gusoyn's a nice guy, he won't mind waiting."

  "He is so nice. So why does he just drive people around?"

  "Gusoyn? He likes it. And don't let the apparent position fool you. Gusoyn's one of the most important people around here. Think about it. Where do people talk business in this town? In their limos. And who else is in the limo? A driver. So the drivers know everything that's going on and Gusoyn, being one of them, hears it all and passes it through. Don't worry Raven, we're all set up here, you've been around for, what, three years? You'll get the hang of how things work. First though let's clear something up. I'm not the Seer's partner right now, haven't been for a year or so."

  "What about Igrat? She and the Seer seem very close." Having had her first set of suspicions dispelled, Raven seemed almost grimly determined to find something else to be upset over.

  "They should be close, she's his daughter. Adopted, but still his daughter. Anyway, look, my visit here is purely business, nothing personal. Yours, I guess, is purely personal, nothing business, and good for you, I'm cheering you on. When Gusoyn gets me home, I'll be going off to a show with Tom."

  "Tommy Blood?"

  "No, Tom Lynch, my current partner. So don't worry, you haven't stumbled into anything and you're not cheating on anybody. Now, you're worried about where you two will be going?"

  Raven nodded.

  "Don't be. The Seer has his faults, the Gods know that, and even they have probably lost count of them, but he's always at least two jumps ahead of the game. If he asked you out, he knows the sort of place you'll be comfortable in and since he knows how you dress, I wish I look that good by the way, he'll have fixed up something appropriate. He'll never put you in a position where you're out of place or ill at ease.

  "Look, being with him is a strain, you'll find that out. He's always ahead of you and its really wearing being with somebody who knows what you'll do before you do. On the other hand that makes him predictable." Inanna giggled for a second. "Want to know a secret? Us chicks put bets on what he'll do in various circumstances. Let's see."

  Inanna stared at Raven for a second. "He knows you, he knows you have a limited wardrobe, and also that you're traveling on a tight budget so you can't buy a new outfit for the date. Given known food preferences, my guess is Bugaboo Creek."

  "What on earth is a Bugaboo Creek?" Raven was awed, hearing America's National Security Advisor spoken about with such familiarity. After three years, she still couldn't quite get used to the idea that people in Washington were humans who had a life outside the Government. Or that she, a Shoshone, was associating with them. The Grand Teton affair had brought them together and that had led by strange and peculiar paths to the Seer and his group getting involved in the problems that afflicted her people. And that had led to the plan to build casinos on Indian tribal land and the creation of a highly successful television series. The way things were happening left her bewildered.

  "Steak and ribs restaurant, up-market but casual, not pretentious. Modeled on a Canadian hunting lodge and they make a thing of having really odd, well I suppose ‘discussion objects' is the best way to describe them, around. Like talking beavers hiding in whisky kegs. You'll see. Want to take me up on it?"

  Raven shook her head.

  "Pity, I could use some pocket change. Raven, we've all had time to get used to his funny little ways, you haven't. He's as cold as they come, completely ruthless, self-absorbed and self-confident to a fault. So that takes a lot of adapting to, and you'll have to do it because he won't change. But, then adapting is something we've all had to get used to. I guess you probably don't have that problem, you're lucky enough to have a background you fit into without problems. We can't.

  "Show you what I mean, I'm blonde right? Once there was a time when all I had to do was this." Inanna shook her head and her waist-length hair shimmered in waves "and bat my baby blue eyes and men would fall into my arms. In the late ‘40s and way into the ‘50s I had to dye it brown. Being a blonde back then wasn't popular. Especially in Boston and the Irish areas of New York, when the word was spreading about what the Germans were doing in Ireland. More than a few girls who looked a little too German for their own good ended up having a bucket of hot road tar and a sack of feathers poured over their heads.

  "We've always had to watch that sort of thing and every time we've moved we've had to learn new customs and new rules of behavior. Do that often enough and we forget who we originally were. Acculturated is the official word for it. You've no idea how much we all envy you. You know who you are, we've forgotten. The Seer's never changed though. Once Loki accused him of moving armies and countries around like some giant game of chess and caring nothing about the people who suffered as a result. Lot of truth in that too, enough to hurt. He's isolated himself from the consequences of what his decisions mean for the people who get in the way. And all of that means he needs a partner to keep him in touch with the res
t of the human race. He hasn't got one at the moment and that's why I said I'll be cheering you on. Just remember, all of us chicks, we're on your side, we're here for you to talk to if you need it. And that ding was the elevator. More later as the saying goes."

  The Seer walked in, tossing a briefcase to one side and flipping his hat on top of it, showing no sign of picking up on the tension still in the air. "Got the papers, Inanna honey? We're still doing the backsweep on the intercepts. Had some hits, not as many as we'd feared."

  "Got them here boss. I'll be on my way."

  "Right, enjoy yourself. Raven, how does Bugaboo Creek grab you for dinner? It's a steak place just down US1"

  Behind his back Inanna punched her fist in the air and made a money-rubbing gesture with her fingers. Without turning around, the Seer carried on smoothly "You been placing bets on me again Inanna? Watch this one, Raven. When the new Casino's open up, she'll be your first customer."

  "Love you too, Boss. Be seeing you. Have a good evening Raven."

  "Thanks for bringing the stuff over honey, Gusoyn's downstairs waiting for you. Sorry about this Raven, I meant to be here earlier but things are pretty grim. Worse than you can imagine. Everything all right?"

  "It just shook me to find Inanna here, I didn't know what to think. When I came in, it looked like she owned the place."

  "I'm pretty sure she does. I'd have to check with Lillith, she keeps all our records, but I'm pretty sure this one's hers. We all own bits of property scattered around and we all use them as convenient. We've got a beautiful old house down at Jamestown in Virginia you'll love."

  "Oh no, I was darned rude to her at first."

  "She won't mind. Bet you she just ignored it and kept on talking. Inanna is one of those people who just lets things like that slide off her back. Before we go, two little bits of business. One is, we've got the blackpox vaccine ready. First batches anyway. As soon as it's in full production, we'll divert some to you and the rest of your people along the border. You're right in the firing line if there is another cross-border incident and if we leave things to the system, you'll be at the end of the queue for vaccines."