by David Weber
She turned her head, looking directly at Van Dort.
"It's hard to explain to frightened people that this is primarily a war of intelligence," she said. "That until we can identify and locate the FAK leadership, all we can do is adopt a reactive stance. Which means the terrorists are free to choose the point of attack, and they certainly aren't going to attack where we're strongest."
"I understand," Van Dort said. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Rajkovic.
"Mr. Vice President, Baroness Medusa and I have discussed the general situation in the Cluster and, specifically, here in Split. Captain Terekhov and I have further discussed it, in light of the dispatches we received from the Provisional Governor when she ordered us here from Montana. It seems to us that historical experience demonstrates that the successful suppression of this sort of movement must always include a two-pronged approach.
"On the one hand, obviously, the military threat must be contained and neutralized. That's usually fairly straightforward, if not necessarily simple. Colonel Basaricek's just finished explaining a large part of the reason why it's not simple. Nonetheless, it isn't impossible, either, and Baroness Medusa's prepared to offer assistance in the effort. She's dispatching the chartered transport Joanna from Spindle, with two full-strength companies of Royal Manticoran Marines on board. One company is drawn from the battalion assigned to her personal command on Flax. The other is drawn from rear Admiral Khumalo's flagship, the Hercules . They'll be accompanied by their integral heavy weapons platoons, two assault shuttles, and three Fleet pinnaces, and they'll take over in the purely military support role when they arrive. That, unfortunately, will probably not be for another week or two, at the soonest. They will, however, remain on assignment to you until such time as the military situation is under control."
Helen watched all four of the Kornatians sit up straighter, their eyes brighter, and Van Dort smiled. But then his smile faded just a bit.
"But in addition to neutralizing the military threat, remedial action must be taken to repair the abuses which helped create the threat in the first place. You can't eliminate resistance by simply shooting resisters, not unless you're prepared to embrace a policy of outright terror yourselves. Your tradition of vigilance where civil rights are concerned suggests to me that you probably aren't prepared to do that. Besides, it would be ultimately futile, unless you're willing to accept a permanent police state. Any time you arrest or kill someone who's perceived as striking out against genuine injustice, you simply create another martyr, which only provides recruits to the other side. It doesn't necessarily mean the terrorists are right ; it simply means you're generating a supply of people who think the terrorists are right. So to cut off their support at its base, you must make it evident you're prepared to address the issues which spawned the resistance movement in the first place. Do it from a position of strength, by all means, and don't allow yourselves to be driven into making huge, unjustified concessions. But those issues must be addressed, and some sort of consensus about them must be reached, if you're to have any hope of finally and completely eliminating the threat."
The Kornatians looked at one another. Basaricek had no expression at all. Kanjer looked frankly mutinous, and General Suka looked as if he'd just bitten into something spoiled. Vice President Rajkovic looked thoughtful, and he leaned back, resting his right forearm on the conference table, and gazed at Van Dort speculatively.
"I hope you'll pardon me for saying this, Mr. Van Dort, but given the Trade Union's reputation, this talk of reform sounds just a bit odd from you."
"I'm sure it does, Mr. Vice President," Van Dort said wryly. "As a matter of fact, however, that's precisely the process I'm in the middle of right now, myself. In a sense, the entire annexation plebiscite was an effort to make right all the regrettable things the RTU-and I-did in our efforts to protect ourselves from Frontier Security. I don't know if you've heard that Ms. Vaandrager is no longer the RTU's chairwoman?"
Rajkovic's eyes seemed to narrow, Helen thought, and Suka actually blinked. Van Dort smiled humorlessly.
"Ms. Vaandrager was my mistake. I've acted, not completely too late, I hope, to correct it. I'm also attempting to convince certain stubborn, pigheaded Montanans that the Trade Union has turned over a new leaf and, more importantly, that the Star Kingdom isn't interested in brutally exploiting their economy. And in addition, I've been working closely with Joachim Alquezar and Henri Krietzmann at the Constitutional Convention, and now with Baroness Medusa, in an effort to finalize a draft -Constitution which will let the annexation move forward. Not, I'm sorry to say, without significant resistance."
Rajkovic's expression went as blank as Basaricek's at the obvious reference to Aleksandra Tonkovic. Suka's face, on the other hand, darkened, and his jaw clenched, while Kanjer stiffened angrily.
"My point is this, Mr. Vice President," Van Dort said levelly. "If the annexation goes through, and if the Split System's political and economic systems undergo the changes the annexation will inevitably bring in its wake, the abuses and poverty which, as Colonel Basaricek has pointed out, helped to fuel the FAK, will be enormously alleviated."
"Excuse me, Mr. Vice President," Kanjer rumbled, his facial muscles tight, "but I seem to be hearing an indictment of our entire government and economy. While I certainly appreciate the offer of assistance from the Star Kingdom-and from Mr. Van Dort-I must say I don't believe we represent a brutally repressive regime."
"Nor do I," Suka said, eying his Vice President almost defiantly.
"Gentlemen," Rajkovic replied gently, "I don't believe that either. I'm not certain it's fair to say Mr. Van Dort does, for that matter. However, I think honesty compels us to admit we don't exactly represent a perfectly equitable regime, either."
Kanjer clamped his jaw, and Suka looked rebellious. The Vice President shook his head and smiled at the general.
"Vlacic, Vlacic! How many years have we known each other now? How many times have we sat down over an excellent dinner and shaken our heads over the problems we both see in our society and economy?"
"I may have seen problems," Suka said stiffly, "but we're certainly no worse than many other star systems. And we're far better than many, for that matter!"
"Of course you are, General," Van Dort said. "There are systems I could think of right here in the Cluster who, I believe, have problems more severe than any you face here. And God knows there're systems outside the Cluster which are just plain nightmares. For that matter, I can think of star systems in the Shell, and even in the Old League itself, whose political structures are far more inequitable than anything here in Split. But that doesn't mean there aren't areas in which you can improve upon what you already have. And all I'm saying is that if the annexation goes through, those areas will be improved."
"And just why are you telling us this?" Kanjer demanded suspiciously.
"For two reasons, Mr. Secretary," Van Dort said. "First, it's -necessary to launch a propaganda counteroffensive. Yes, a huge majority of the franchised population voted in favor of annexation. But the franchise is so limited here, because of the nonregistration of eligible voters, that the vote in favor was actually a minority of the total pool of potential voters. Nordbrandt knows that. She's played upon it in her propaganda. And it's not enough for the government to respond by simply reciting the vote totals over and over again. You have to come out swinging, in a way which convinces the majority of those who didn't vote that annexation is a good thing. That it will have positive consequences for them in their own lives. At the moment, Nordbrandt's arguing that it will benefit only the 'moneyed interests' and 'oligarchs,' and only at the expense of everyone else. You need to not only dispute her claims, but effectively debunk them."
Rajkovic and Basaricek were both nodding, and even Kanjer and Suka looked a bit more relaxed, Helen thought. But she also knew Van Dort hadn't dropped the other shoe yet.
Then he did.
"And second," he said quietly, "to be completely honest,
President Tonkovic's position at the Constitutional Convention isn't helpful."
Suka's already dark complexion turned an alarming shade of red. He quivered with visible outrage, and Kanjer sat bolt upright in his chair, his expression furious, but Van Dort faced him calmly.
"Mr. Secretary, before you say anything, has President Tonkovic informed your government that she's been informed by Baroness Medusa that a hard time limit for the approval of a Constitution exists? That if a draft Constitution hasn't been approved within the next one hundred and twenty-two standard days, the Star Kingdom of Manticore will either withdraw the offer of annexation completely, or else provide a list of specific individual star systems whose admission to the Star Kingdom will be rejected?"
Kanjer had started to open his mouth. Now he froze, eyes widening, and darted a look at Rajkovic. But the Vice President seemed as startled as the Justice Secretary himself.
"Excuse me," Rajkovic said after moment. "I have to be absolutely clear on this point. Are you telling us, as Baroness Medusa's personal representative, that she's informed President Tonkovic of this?"
"She has," Van Dort said levelly.
"She informed President Tonkovic before she ordered you from Montana to Split?" the Vice President pressed.
"According to her dispatches to me, yes."
The Kornatians looked at one another, and Helen could see them doing the math. Recognizing that a message from Tonkovic containing that same information could have reached Kornati almost three weeks earlier. That their head of state hadn't informed them, neither in her capacity as their delegate to the Convention, nor as their head of state, who was constitutionally required to keep their Parliament informed in diplomatic matters, about an official message from the Provisional Governor.
"It's not my intention, or the Provisional Governor's, to present Kornati with a constitutional crisis," Van Dort said gently. "But this is something you're going to have to deal with. How you do it is up to you. But it's my responsibility to inform you that the problem, and the deadline, exist. And, to be perfectly honest, I believe it's a point which is going to have to be addressed in your campaign-should you decide to wage one-to convince the nonvoters of the Split System that annexation is a good thing for them."
"This… is going to create additional problems," Rajkovic said slowly. Colonel Basaricek nodded in emphatic agreement; Secretary Kanjer and General Suka looked as if they were in a state of shock. "In the short term, however," the Vice President continued, "may we assume you and Captain Terekhov are prepared to assist us actively in the military efforts to suppress the threat represented by the FAK?"
"Of course we are, Mr. Vice President," the Captain said. "The nonmilitary response Mr. Van Dort's described has to be part of a long-term solution, but it also has to be very carefully thought through. And as he says, constitutional crises aren't what we came to provoke. In the immediate short term, we'll cooperate with you fully against Nordbrandt and her killers. And I really do believe, Sir," he added, his blue eyes colder than ice, "that she won't enjoy what happens."
* * *
"Well, thank God for that," Annette De Chabrol murmured fervently as the Marianne accelerated steadily away from Kornati.
Duan Binyan and Franz Anhier, the ship's engineer, were careful to hold her acceleration down to an ambling pace appropriate to her decrepit appearance. But that was fine with De Chabrol. She was less concerned with acceleration rates than she was with headings, and at the moment Marianne was headed directly away from HMS Hexapuma .
"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised Nordbrandt took it that well," Zeno Egervary said, and Duan laughed sharply.
"I don't know how 'well' she took it," he said. "We never spoke directly to her, after all. But there wasn't much else she could do. I was never that worried about her reaction-or, rather, I was less worried about her reaction than I was about the possibility of somebody spotting us actually unloading her goddamned weapons."
"You seemed confident enough we could pull it off when you were explaining everything to me ," De Chabrol said in a sour tone, but she smiled as she said it.
"I was just more confident we'd be in deeper shit if we didn't try than I was that we'd get away with it!"
"Well, either way, I'm with Annette," Egervary said. "Just get me away from that fucking Manty cruiser, and I'll be a happy man."
"I'm always in favor of promoting happiness among my officers and crew," Duan told him with a smile. "So we'll just leave Mr. Manty sitting here in Split while we get on with business elsewhere."
He turned to De Chabrol, and his smile grew broader.
"Plot us a course to Montana, Annette."
Chapter Forty-Three
"I understand that we need to train our people with the new weapons before we start using them, Sister Alpha."
Drazen Divkovic's tone and manner were both as respectful as always, but he had a certain air of stubbornness, Nordbrandt thought. He always did, for that matter. Stubbornness, determination, sheer bloody-mindedness-call it what you would, it was one of the qualities which made him so effective.
"And I understand you want to begin making effective use of them as soon as possible, Brother Dagger," she replied. "I know all our brothers and sisters do. My only concern is that our eagerness to take the fight to the oppressors may betray us into striking before we're truly prepared."
"Yet we're already making use of the new equipment, Sister Alpha," Drazen pointed out, and Nordbrandt nodded, even though neither he nor anyone else could see her.
Although Drazen was always careful to address her, even in their face-to-face meetings, as "Sister Alpha," she normally referred to him by his actual name in those meetings, rather than his FAK name. It wasn't that she was any less security-conscious than he, but she never met with more than a single cell leader at a time, and she knew the given names of more of them than she really ought to. There was no point pretending she didn't, as long as not doing so didn't threaten their security, and it was good for their morale, helped nourish their sense of unity. She told herself that, and it was true, but it was also true that the human within the revolutionary leader, the extrovert who'd become a successful politician, hungered for the occasional pretense of normality. The ability to call an old companion by name. To pretend to forget for that fleeting moment that she-and they-must be forever vigilant, forever on guard.
But neither of them would risk that informality now, because she was meeting simultaneously with the leaders of no less than eleven cells.
She would never have dared to do that in person, but the encrypted military coms from the Central Liberation Committee enormously enhanced her communications flexibility. She had to admit that the belief she'd taken away from her first meeting with Firebrand-that what had eventually become the CLC would probably never amount to more than words-had done him a gross disservice. She could scarcely believe the cornucopia of weapons and explosives, man-portable surface-to-air missiles, night vision equipment, and body armor even the abbreviated CLC consignment had delivered to them. And the military coms were almost better than the guns and explosives.
She reminded herself yet again that she mustn't extend some sort of magical faith to the new tech advantages she'd received. Good as the coms might be, the damned Manties could undoubtedly match them. But not until they knew to look for them. And not even the Manties could direction find on the coms when they weren't broadcasting.
One advantage of Kornati's relatively primitive technology level was that an enormous percentage of their telecommunications still passed over old-fashioned optic cable. In some cases, over actual copper . In this particular instance, she and her cell leaders had simply plugged their coms into the existing hardwired communications net, then placed a conference call. The coms' built-in encryption was more secure than anything the local authorities might possess, and the wire connection meant there was no broadcast signal for listening stations to pick up. And they'd been designed to be used in exactly this way,
as well as in the normal, wireless mode. Their software continually monitored any landline connection to detect any tap, all of which meant it was now possible for her to teleconference with her top leadership.
As long as we're still careful, and don't start taking the ability for granted, she reminded herself sternly.
"Yes, Brother Dagger," she acknowledged. "We are already using some of the new equipment. But we're phasing it in gradually. And we're still not using it-or relying on it-in the field."
"Excuse me, Sister Alpha," another leader said, "but that may be a false distinction. No, we're not in the field. But if we screw up during this discussion, if we give ourselves away and the grays pounce, it's going to cost the Movement a hell of a lot more than losing one action cell in the field."
"Point taken, Brother Scimitar," she admitted ungrudgingly. One mistake she was determined not to make was to create some sort of personality cult in which her senior subordinates were unwilling to challenge what they saw as possible errors of judgment on her part.
"I think what Brother Dagger's suggesting, Sister Alpha," a third cell leader said, "is that we should consider the possibility of using some of the new weapons in smaller, secondary operations that would let us gain experience with them."
"Not exactly, Sister Rapier," Drazen said. "I agree that we should use them at first in small operations, that expose us to only limited damage if we lose the strike team. But what I'm really suggesting is that we should begin stepping up our training schedule."
"In what way, Brother Dagger?" Nordbrandt asked.
"We had a big part of the shipment delivered to… a secure location," Drazen said, and Nordbrandt smiled in approval. Drazen had been in charge of the delivery of the bulk of the equipment to Camp Freedom, but he wasn't about to share that information with anyone who didn't need to know it. Not even people he knew were the leaders of Nordbrandt's most trusted central cadre.
