“They will be remembered,” she said, quietly. “I confess, sir, that I am no diplomat ...”
“I don’t believe diplomacy will be of any use,” the First Speaker said. He smiled at her, more openly. “You may speak freely.”
“We have to take the offensive as soon as possible,” Jasmine said. “The CEF is a formidable fighting force, sir, but it isn't designed to hold territory indefinitely. We also need to undermine the basis for the insurgency’s existence.”
“We can do one of those,” the First Speaker admitted. Behind his smile, she saw a sudden hint of bitter tiredness. He would have six more years of his term to go, she knew, if he didn't get kicked out by the planet’s Senate. By the end of his term, he would be an old man. “But forcing a compromise solution through the Senate ... it might be impossible.”
Jasmine nodded in understanding. Avalon had had plenty of room to expand, it had merely been held back by the old Council. Once the barriers had been removed, the economy and employment had expanded rapidly. But Thule didn't really have that option, unless the government invested money in trying to create busy-work. And even that would have its limits.
The First Speaker looked at her. “How long will the Commonwealth permit you and your men to remain here?”
“At least nine months,” Jasmine said, wishing she was as confident as she sounded. If Councillor Travis had his way, the CEF would be recalled and disbanded within months, an act that would probably tear the Commonwealth apart. “After that, I don’t know.”
“So we have that long to produce results,” the First Speaker mused. “And the insurgents might know there’s a time limit.”
He sighed, then looked up at her. “I believe it is time to call my advisors,” he said. “We need to plan our operations with extreme care. A victory – any victory – would make it easier for us to seek a political solution.”
***
The hanger had once been completely empty, stripped bare of everything from machine tools to personal possessions. Now, it had been taken over by the medics, who had placed blankets on the floor and used them as makeshift beds for wounded soldiers and civilians. Thomas entered through the side door and winced, bitterly, when he saw the wounded men. Half of them would have to be evacuated to the starships and returned to Avalon to recover there.
He looked over at the medic, who stepped over and led him into a private office. It was as bare as the rest of the hanger, apart from a pornographic calendar that hung on the walls that was around two years old. Thomas made a mental note to place it in the main room – it might distract the wounded – then looked back at the medic. He looked tired.
“Nine men will have to be shipped back to Avalon,” the medic said, “unless we can get them proper treatment here. Their wounds are beyond field treatment, sir. There’s also a handful of civilians in similar condition ...”
“Place them in stasis tubes,” Thomas ordered. If the locals could take them, well and good; if not, the CEF would assume responsibility. “And the others?”
“Should be back up within a week at the most,” the medic said. “A couple probably should go back to the starships – I’d prefer not to treat them here if possible – but they will heal.”
He paused. “There's some odd points on the civilians, though,” he added. “The girls in particular. Some of them are drug addicts, others have clearly been abused as well as forced to prostitute themselves. They’re frightened of men, yet any fight has been beaten out of them so completely that they’re unable to offer any resistance. From what they’ve said, they were sold by their families and ... well, if they tried to resist, they were simply beaten into submission.
“They – and most of the civilians – are also suffering the effects of starvation and poor nutrition. The drugs don’t make it any easier for them.”
Thomas nodded, unsurprised. War zones tended to be hellish for everyone, but it was worst of all for the helpless civilians caught in the middle.
“Treat them as best as you can,” he said. “And if anyone complains, send them to me.”
“Yes, sir,” the medic said.
***
Gudrun’s arms and wrists were aching, but there was nothing she could do about it. She – and around a dozen other prisoners, mostly men – had been marched into a disused hanger and told to sit by the wall, waiting for attention. Part of her wanted the waiting to come to an end, part of her knew all-too-well that when it did, she was likely to regret it. There were just too many rumours, some backed up with hard facts, about what happened to young men and women who were arrested by the security forces.
She risked a glance at the soldiers watching her, but they seemed to be paying her no special attention. One of the prisoners had made a terrible fuss, only to be gagged with a piece of duct tape and dropped in the corner; the others had kept their mouths shut. But them, cuffed as they were, there was little they could do to cause trouble. All they could do was wait and see what happened to them.
Two men marched into the hanger and walked over to her. Before she could say a word, they caught her shoulders and hauled her to her feet, then half-pushed her towards the door. Outside, more and more shuttles were landing, some of them disgorging tanks that looked larger than her father’s house, before it had been repossessed by the bank. Others were unloading soldiers, more soldiers than she could possibly count. It looked as if the outsiders had brought enough soldiers to occupy the entire planet. None of them paid any attention to her as she was walked past them and into a small building that, she guessed, had once been part of the administrative centre. Now, the only occupant was a tough-looking woman wearing a black uniform and a nasty scowl.
A moment later, she was forced into a chair and her escorts headed outside, leaving her alone with the intimidating woman. Up close, her skin-tight uniform revealed an alarming amount of muscles, while her cold eyes betrayed no hint of anything, but absolute confidence she could handle anything Gudrun threw at her.
“I should tell you, just in case you have any ideas, that I have permission to maim you if you do anything stupid,” she said. Her voice had a thin nasal accent that reminded Gudrun of her younger brother, who’d had his nose broken during a childhood fight. “And even if you do manage to overcome me, there is only one door and it is heavily guarded by armed men.”
She plucked Gudrun to her feet with one hand, then spun her around. Gudrun yelped as she felt something cold touching her wrists, then there was a snapping sound and her hands came free. She pulled them forward and rubbed her wrists, frantically. Her captor spun her around until she was facing her, then gave her an odd little smile.
“Tell me,” she said. “Are you carrying anything that could be used as a weapon?”
“I was searched twice,” Gudrun said, somehow. Her voice shook as she spoke. “I couldn't hide anything.”
“Good to hear it,” the woman said. She stepped forward, then ran her hands down Gudrun’s body, paying particular attention to her pockets. “Sit down.”
Gudrun sat. A moment later, she felt something hard pressed against her neck. There was a hissing sound, a stab of pain, then her thoughts just seemed to drift away into the ether. It was hard, so hard, to focus her mind ... ahead of her, she heard a booming voice. Somehow, it seemed to be the most important thing in the universe.
“Tell me your name,” it said.
“Gudrun,” Gudrun said. A funny feeling overcame her for a second, a feeling that suggested that perhaps she shouldn't be answering questions. But it faded rapidly and was gone. “My name is Gudrun.”
“Very good,” the voice cooed. Gudrun felt a rush of almost sexual pleasure, washing away her doubts. “And what were you doing when you were captured?”
The questions continued, one by one, until she had quite lost track of herself. When she finally reopened her eyes, she discovered that she’d fallen asleep. Her memories were hazy and confused ... and, she discovered when she tried to move, her hands had been cuffed again whil
e her ankles had been shackled. What had happened?
“You were injected with a basic truth drug,” the woman said. Oddly, the haze still affecting Gudrun’s thoughts made her want to trust the woman. “You sang like a canary.”
Gudrun cringed. “I didn't ...”
“You did,” the woman told her. “I can show you recordings, if you like. We know everything you know, from your cell leader to your RV point for extraction. I dare say we will make good use of it.”
Gudrun barely heard herself moan. She was dead. Whatever happened, she was dead. If she went to a detention camp as a young female insurgent, she would be molested by the guards – and murdered by the other prisoners, if they found out she’d betrayed them. And if the movement found out that she'd confessed everything, they’d kill her if she fell into their hands. She'd steeled herself to resist torture, to keep her mouth shut even if they flogged her to within an inch of her life, but the drug had just undermined her will completely. There had been no way to resist it.
“We have an offer for you,” the woman said. “You may be able to do us a service. If so, we will provide transport off-world for you and your family at the end of the war. But it will require some willing collaboration.”
She shrugged, meaningfully. “There’s no shame in falling to the drugs,” she added. “I’ve seen strong men steel themselves to resist, only to start blabbing as soon as the drug gets into their bloodstream. You could go to a camp, if you liked.”
“But I’ll be killed,” Gudrun wailed. “They’ll kill me.”
“Your choice,” the woman said. “Work with us, Gudrun, and you can survive. Your family can survive. Or go into a camp and take your chances.”
She paused. “We won’t tell anyone you talked,” she added. “We can do that much for you, at least.”
It was the act of kindness, more than anything else, that broke Gudrun completely. She was being manipulated, she recognised, her thoughts still – perhaps – influenced by the drug, but there was no alternative. She’d been drugged to spill everything she knew, yet now ... now she was making the decision to betray her side completely.
“I’ll join you,” she said.
“Splendid,” the woman said. She helped Gudrun to her feet. “I’ll have better quarters prepared for you ASAP.”
It was hard, Gudrun discovered, to walk while her feet was shackled. Oddly, concentrating on walking made it easier to forget what she'd done ... and what she was going to do. But when she finally reached her new apartment, the thoughts came back full force.
What had she done?
Chapter Twenty
For example, the food distribution was originally placed in the hands of Empire-backed power centres. These ranged from officials appointed directly by the Empire’s representatives to outright warlords. Unsurprisingly, they tended to distribute the food in a manner calculated to benefit themselves.
- Professor Leo Caesius. War in a time of ‘Peace:’ The Empire’s Forgotten Military History.
“Jasmine will be on Thule by now,” Gwendolyn said.
Ed nodded as they walked into the waiting room. The hearing had lasted two weeks, with almost every officer remaining on Avalon called to testify, some multiple times. Ed couldn't decide if Councillor Travis was desperate to dig up something – anything – to justify the amount of time and effort spent on the hearing. By now, he had a private suspicion that the Councillor had burned through much of his political capital, overplaying his hand. Would he still be able to use the outcome to press for changes?
“And Wolfbane will be bare light years away,” he mused. There had been more reports of intrusions across the border, reports that had been two weeks old by the time they reached Avalon. God alone knew what the situation was like now. One scenario he’d contemplated was the CEF being attacked by Wolfbane’s Navy before it could disembark. “Doing what, I wonder?”
A bell rang before he could say anything else. Shaking his head, he left Gwen behind and strode into the Council Chamber and took a seat in the gallery, watching grimly as everyone who thought they were anyone on Avalon found their places and sat down. Maybe it wouldn't be too long, he considered, before Avalon developed the ceremonies the Empire had once used to make it clear that the Grand Senate was in charge. And when that happened, when lines were drawn between rulers and ruled, something vitally important would be lost forever.
He found himself looking up at the chairs on the other side of the room. Reporters, of course – he saw Jasmine’s lover among them – and family members, but there were others too. Men and women who had realised just how important this hearing was likely to be, not for what might be decided but for what might come of it. In a very real sense, the whole ideal of the Commonwealth itself was in trial.
Councillor Stevens stood and gravelled for silence. Ed leaned back in his chair as the chatter died away, watching and waiting to see what the Council might have decided. Gaby had been excluded from their discussions, but Councillor Travis – thanks to his political footwork – had not. Ed couldn't help admiring the deviousness the man had shown in organising and steering the hearing – he’d managed to both advocate it and serve as a judge – yet he wished that it had been turned to another purpose. The Commonwealth had quite a few political problems that might be solved with some fancy diplomatic footwork.
Maybe we can make him a diplomat, he thought, before dismissing the idea as absurd. They might have been trying to reinvent the whole idea of diplomacy after the fall of the Empire – the Empire had never been very diplomatic, as it had wielded the biggest stick in the history of mankind – but he was fairly sure that appointing someone adamantly opposed to the Commonwealth to the Diplomatic Corps would be a bad idea. At the very least, it would suggest that Avalon was more interested in getting rid of a nuisance than actual diplomacy.
“We are very aware of the fact that this hearing is unprecedented,” Councillor Stevens said, “and that we will be setting the precedent for countless hearings to come. As such, we have been careful to go through the steps point by point, calling everyone who could reasonably be called to testify. We may have trod the same ground time and time again, but we have a reasonably comprehensive picture of everything that happened.”
That was true enough, Ed knew, although it was still tainted with hindsight. But very few people could dismiss hindsight altogether, even when they were aware of the dangers of using knowledge from the future. There was always a tendency to move towards the answer the viewer knew was correct, simply through having the benefit of hindsight. It was far harder to understand that the person at the time might have thought differently.
“The Council wishes to take a moment to express its gratitude to everyone who was called to testify,” Councillor Stevens continued. “It could not have been an easy experience for them, any more than it was for any of us. But their testimony helped flesh out the gaps in the record.”
And wasted a great deal of time, Ed thought. There were only a handful of people involved in the actual decision. Calling junior soldiers who had first seen combat during the CEF’s ill-fated deployment might have looked good, but it hadn't produced anything useful. But then, I suppose they wanted to be as careful as possible.
“Overall, we have reached a number of conclusions,” Councillor Stevens said. “Those conclusions can now be stated for the record.”
Ed felt cold ice moving through his bloodstream. A determination that he had acted poorly in making the decision to deploy the CEF, let alone accepting Wolfbane’s choice of a venue for the talks, wouldn't be enough to fire him. But if his position was undermined so badly, he would have no choice but to resign. The principle of civilian control of the military was too important to allow his own feelings to interfere with his duty to uphold it. They wouldn't need to make a case for his dismissal if he resigned.
“First, the decision to use Lakshmibai was not taken by anyone on Avalon,” Councillor Stevens said. “We believe that the decision was unwise, but our rep
resentatives were given few choices. Wolfbane made the decision to use Lakshmibai and we accepted it, because we were given no reasonable alternative. It is unlikely, we believe, that the people who made the original decision will ever stand trial in this chamber.”
Probably, Ed thought, cynically. The Empire had occasionally tried and punished officers from independent planetary militias, but the Empire had been overwhelmingly powerful. It could have enforced compliance if the planetary militia had balked. It was unlikely, however, that the Commonwealth could try anyone from Wolfbane ... or, for that matter, that Wolfbane could insist on asserting authority over the Commonwealth. Both sides would regard it as compromising their independence.
“Second, given the security situation on Lakshmibai,” Councillor Stevens continued, “the decision to deploy the CEF was not in error. Foresight shows little about Lakshmibai to like; hindsight tells us that the planet would be plunged into a full-scale war. Having the CEF accompanying the diplomats was a wise precaution, one that more than proved its value.”
Ed looked up at Councillor Travis. His face was impassive, betraying none of his innermost thoughts, but he had to be outraged. The two most important charges, the ones that would have been levelled against Ed if they’d been upheld, had been rejected. Ed wondered, coldly, just what the Councillor was thinking. Did he intend to press for a retrial? Or would he merely accept there was no point in playing out a losing hand?
“Third, however, the decision to accept Wolfbane’s terms of sending away the starships was a deadly mistake,” Councillor Stevens said. “They may have proposed it, but we do not believe that there was any reason to accept it, particularly as they had already accepted the CEF. In future negotiations, it is our determination that if the security situation is badly unstable, we will insist on an equal number of starships being present in the star system in question.
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