The Halls of Montezuma

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  She cleared her throat. “How do you know they won’t see you coming?”

  “We’ve established a solid line of air defence units along the front,” Gilbert said. “The PDCs have fired on everything in orbit that pokes its head out of the gap they carved in our defences. They shouldn’t be able to see our units, which are heavily camouflaged anyway ... just in case. Even if they do, and pull back before we can put them in the bag, they’ll be giving up all hope of taking the city and destroying our industries before the fleet is re-concentrated. It may take longer, but we will still win.”

  “Good, good,” the director said. “And what if it fails?”

  “The worst that can happen, director, is that they get out of the trap before it snaps shut,” Gilbert said. “And that will still give us the chance to run them down as they retreat.”

  “Then put the plan into operation,” the director ordered. “And don’t let them see what’s coming before it’s too late.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gilbert said.

  “Then we’d better all get back to work,” the director said. “Good luck to us all.”

  He stood. Julia stood and followed him back to his office, considering the possibilities. If the plan worked, the marines would be broken. There would be no hope of them recovering before they were kicked off the planet. But if it didn’t work ...

  The director called for coffee as he sat and looked at her. “What do you think?”

  Julia clasped her hands behind her back. “I think the plan is workable,” she said. She was mildly surprised he hadn’t chewed her out for speaking out of turn. “But what if someone inside the government betrays us?”

  “We’re monitoring all communications that might be picked up by the invaders,” the director said. “And we’d notice if someone used an unauthorised radio transmitter.”

  Julia had her doubts. “There were people in Haverford who were quite prepared to sell out,” she said. The marines had taken the turncoats with them, when they’d abandoned the capital city and fallen back on their defence lines. “There will be people here who might be prepared to do the same.”

  “They’d still have to get in touch with the marines,” the director pointed out. “Do you think they can without being detected?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Julia said. “The real question is ... do they think they can do it without being detected?”

  She remembered the map and scowled as the maid brought a tray of coffee and biscuits, then retreated without saying a word. There was just too much land in the disputed zone. Someone could walk east until they ran into the marines and surrender ... she could imagine some of her fellows, men and women desperate for patronage, being willing to put their lives on the line for potential patrons. Or ... someone might have a private radio set. Or ... they might be planning a coup, intending to take power and then negotiate with the marines. She wondered, suddenly, if she should start thinking about options herself. The director wouldn’t remain in power forever. If he fell before she clawed back enough power to protect herself ...

  “We’ll have to wait and see,” the director said. “We can’t arrest everyone who received the messages.”

  “No, sir,” Julia agreed. “We can’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  This happens even if the government avoids a collapse into outright tyranny. The system will be caught between two poles of injustice. On one hand, entitled scroungers who put their hands out for whatever they can get; on the other, people who literally cannot work - who genuinely cannot work - but are forced to do so by government beancounters. There is no way to avoid this. It is an injustice to support people who are perfectly capable of working, but it is also an injustice to refuse to support those who cannot work.

  - Professor Leo Caesius, The Rise and Fall of Interstellar Capitalism

  Percy kicked at a can as he walked home, uncomfortably anticipating an unpleasant chat with his uncle. The teacher had told him off at school, first for skiving and then for making rude gestures at the teacher’s back. It wasn’t Percy’s fault he was bored stiff, learning facts and figures that were utterly meaningless. The man was an ignorant incompetent who should have been marched off to the front lines, like the older boys in the upper classes. Percy envied them. He’d have liked to wear a uniform and shoot people. He wanted to put a bullet through the teacher’s head and ...

  He groaned, inwardly. His uncle was not going to be pleased. The man had threatened him with all sorts of punishments the last time Percy had been sent home from school. This time, perhaps, he might even go through with them. Perhaps he’d send Percy to a work farm on the other side of the world, as he’d threatened, or maybe he’d just apply his hand and his belt to Percy’s backside. His uncle was a kind man, but he had his limits. And no one, absolutely no one, wanted to attract attention from the security services.

  Bastards, Percy thought. There was no privacy. No freedom. Nothing ... not even the prospect of a better life. He wanted something new, something different ... he knew he wasn’t going to get it. My life is over and it won’t ever end.

  He heard a hissing sound ahead of him as he turned into the alleyway. A man stood by the wall, painting on the stone. Percy blinked in surprise. A handful of kids had sketched out graffiti in the school bathrooms, only to be caught and punished by the police. They’d seen it as a joke, but ... he stopped dead as the man started to write out a sentence. It was open defiance, the kind of thing everyone knew would end with the perpetrator in jail and ...

  “Hey.” The man grinned at him. “What do you think?”

  Percy hesitated, torn between awe and fear. He wanted to be like the man, showing his defiance to the police, yet ... he didn’t want to go to jail. He forced himself to read the sentence, word by word. BIG BROTHER IS NOT WATCHING YOU. He didn’t know what it meant, or why the man had splashed bursts of paint around the alley. He swallowed, hard, as the man took a can of paint from his bag and held it out to him. It felt as if his entire life was hanging on a knife edge.

  “I don’t understand,” he stammered. “What are you doing?”

  “The security monitors are no longer on line,” the man said. “I can do whatever I like and no one can see me. So can you.”

  He waved a hand at the splashes of paint. “You know where the monitors are? Cover them with paint now and they’ll never be able to bring them back online.”

  Percy found himself gaping as he tried to wrap his head around the new reality. He’d seen the message on his terminal - it had vanished as he’d tried to read it - but he found it impossible to believe. One just couldn’t get away with anything, not in the city. Things were supposed to be easier in the countryside, but ... he’d heard too many horror stories of strange beasts praying on human farmers to want to go there. He knew he shouldn’t talk to strangers. He knew he shouldn’t even think about taking the can and using it ...

  He took the can. It was light, but it felt heavy in his hand.

  “Give them hell,” the man said. “And don’t even think about letting them see you.”

  Percy nodded, staring down at the can. He could go home and disable all the monitors. He knew where they were. Everyone knew ... they weren’t even very well hidden. He swallowed, hard, at the thought of blinding them. If he did it alone, he’d be caught ... but if everyone did it ... he tightened his grip. He’d spread the word as far as he could. They couldn’t put everyone in jail.

  He turned and hurried down the alleyway. His uncle wouldn’t be pleased, but ... Percy knew the old man resented the constant surveillance as much as everyone else. He’d get over it in time. And the fact he’d have to thank Percy for giving the family back its privacy was just the icing on the cake.

  ***

  Edna cursed under her breath as she waited in line for the storekeeper to finally attend to her. The person in front was taking her sweet time, even though she had only a handful of items. There was something wrong with her payment implant and she wasn’t taking n
o for an answer ... Edna felt a flash of frustration as she realised the silly woman had taken more than she needed. Bitch. It was people like her who made life difficult for everyone else. Edna knew the score. The rationing system was a headache, but it was the only way to make sure everyone got what they needed. Normally, they didn’t make such a fuss.

  She rubbed her pounding forehead as she heard angry muttering from behind her. The line was growing longer, yet the shopkeepers weren’t opening more tills. The empty booths for the cashiers mocked her. Maybe half the staff had been called up and sent to the front, but that was no excuse. Edna didn’t have time to wait much longer. She had to collect her daughter from daycare before time ran out or the meddling child protection agencies would start moaning at her again. Assholes. She had a job that didn’t let her out until five in the afternoon, barely giving her an hour to shop before she had to pick up her daughter. It had been a lot easier before her husband had sailed off on Hammerblow. And ...

  Edna felt her heart sink. She’d known it might be months before her husband returned, but ... rumour had it that the battlecruiser had been destroyed. Her husband might be dead. She was entitled to collect a widow’s pension, if her husband had died on active service, but she’d been stonewalled when she’d called the navy personnel office to see if there was any truth to the story. She scowled as she tapped her fingers against the trolley, trying not to look at her watch. She could feel time ticking away, second by second. She would have to abandon her trolley and run if the line didn’t start moving soon. She simply didn’t have time to argue with the child protection officers. Meddling bitches, the lot of them. It was painfully obvious they didn’t give a damn about the children. They just wanted to revel in their power to make parents squirm.

  The manager appeared, scurrying towards the cashier. He was a dapper man who might have been handsome, if he clearly hadn’t been sweating buckets. The entire line glared at him, wondering - she was sure - why he couldn’t take a cashier’s seat and start handling customers himself. Edna knew why. Managers thought they were too important to do menial work. And the few who didn’t were almost worse. Her manager had tried to do some of her work for her, just to be nice, and he’d nearly driven her mad trying to fix it. She looked at her watch again, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. She just didn’t have time to go shopping again, after she picked up her kid. The frustration boiled up within her as the manager glanced at the crowd. The look of faint superiority in his face drove her over the edge.

  She scooped up a tin of peaches and hurled it at him. A roar of anger echoed through the crowd as others started to hurl their own shopping, knocking the handful of cashiers to the floor. Edna picked up another tin, then stopped as an idea occurred to her. There was nothing stopping her from just pushing the trolley out of the store, loading everything into her bag and taking it home. The monitors would see her, but ... the monitors were gone. She pushed forward, shoving the manager to one side as she moved. He was bleeding from a nasty gash on his temple ... she told herself he deserved it as she kept moving, shoving her way onto the streets. Behind her, she heard shelves toppling and people screaming as they threw caution to the winds and started to grab whatever they wanted. The rationing system kept everyone alive, at the price of making sure no one had more than a couple of days’ worth of food on hand. Now ...

  Edna wondered at herself as she packed her bag, abandoned the trolley and ran. The riot was spreading, more and more shops being looted as people – ordinary, decent people - started snatching everything that came to hand. Food stories were emptied rapidly, followed in turn by luxury shops that sold goods imported from Earth. Prices had gone up recently, although Edna wasn’t sure why. Rumour insisted that Earth was gone, but she didn’t believe it. What sort of crisis could destroy a whole planet?

  She slipped into the shadows as she saw a line of policemen hurrying towards her. Fear washed down her spine. She’d heard terrifying rumours about what happened to women in prison, even though she didn’t know anyone who’d gone to prison. The policemen ignored her as they ran towards the riot, clearly desperate to stop it before the chaos spread any further. Edna was sure it was too late. The crowd was no longer going to put up with their control. And anyone who escaped, now the monitoring systems were gone, was probably going to get away with it.

  Her watch bleeped. It was time to pick up her daughter.

  Edna squared her shoulders and kept walking, trying to look as innocent and uninvolved as possible. There was no reason for the police to catch her, right? There was no reason for them to search her. And ... she wished, suddenly, that she’d taken the chance to grab more canned food. Her daughter was a growing girl, yet her records didn’t reflect that. Her rations were more suited for a young girl than a preteen ...

  Behind her, she heard someone scream. She did her best to ignore it.

  ***

  Constable Jimmy Parker felt his heart starting to race as he led the small force of policemen towards the riot. Fear congealed in his chest, almost choking him. He’d never really been afraid on the streets, not when everyone had known the entire city was monitored and anyone who committed a crime would be lucky if they stayed out of jail for more than a few hours. And yet ... the last few days had been hellish. The bombing, the lost security monitors ... someone had started teaching young boys and teenagers to block or destroy the monitors before the system could be brought back online. Jimmy had enjoyed the perks of being a police officer - it was astonishing what someone would do to stay out of jail - but now he was having second thoughts. There were so many rioters on the streets that the police were badly outnumbered.

  He clutched his stunner in one hand, unsure if it would be any use. The captain had put out a call for a riot control unit, or even a company of armed soldiers, but it would take time for them to respond. The stunners weren’t bad weapons, yet ... even a wisp of clothing could provide enough protection to keep someone from collapsing into a stupor. An angry crowd couldn’t be stunned before it was too late ... he felt his heart skip a beat as the rioters turned to stare at him. There were more people on the streets than he’d ever believed to be possible. The worst thing he’d ever faced - a mugger who’d been bright enough to figure out the blind spots in the system - had been nothing compared to the sheer anger he saw on the streets. He felt hot liquid trickle down his legs as the crowd stared at him, their eyes hard an accusing. It took him longer than it should have done to realise what was missing. They weren’t afraid any longer ...

  The crowd surged forward. Jimmy panicked and raised his stunner, sweeping it across the crowd. A handful fell to the ground, but the remainder kept coming, trampling on their former comrades before they reached the policemen. Jimmy turned to run, yet it was far too late. Something crashed into his back and he fell forward, a heavy weight slamming down on top of him. He tried to recall his training, to remember what he had to do, but ...

  Darkness.

  ***

  General Gilbert was up to something.

  Rachel knew it, even though she had no idea what. The last couple of days had been difficult, to say the least. She’d hoped to meet Phelps, to help him to slip into the building so she’d have an ally on the inside, but it had proven impossible. Phelps was now causing trouble on the streets, while she was building a conspiracy. The destruction of the monitoring system had unleashed a lot of pent-up resentment. It was surprisingly easy to start putting together a network of military officers and industrial managers who’d never see promotion, convincing them that they’d have a better future when the underground took over. They’d be surprised to discover who they’d been supporting, but ... she shrugged. By then, it wouldn’t matter.

  And yet, General Gilbert was up to something.

  She frowned, wondering if she’d done her work a little too well. General Gilbert didn’t seem to trust anyone, save perhaps for a handful of people who’d been with him for years. He’d sent out hundreds of orders, often countermanding them
hours later ... if he was trying to confuse people, Rachel thought, he’d succeeded. It had crossed her mind to wonder if he was plotting a coup. Why not? She was doing the same thing, using the mobilisation and general chaos as a cover for her growing conspiracy. And yet, she wasn’t so sure. A lot of his decisions wouldn’t be useful if he intended to take power.

  A hand dropped on her shoulder. “Hannah,” Commander Archer said. He’d started to address her by her first name in public, something that had won her even more sympathy. “Come with me.”

  Rachel stood as her relief arrived, bracing herself. Commander Archer wasn’t fool enough to insist on a quickie in the middle of his shift, was he? She frowned as she realised he might have that - or more - in mind. The senior officers were busy with their plans, leaving Archer unsupervised. Perhaps he thought he could get away with it. The hell of it was that he might well be right. General Gilbert had more important things to worry about.

  And we probably made him look good, she thought. She knew she’d been a good little staff officer. She really didn’t want to be sent away, not when she was precisely where she needed to be. Damn it.

  She followed him into the office, looking around with interest. It was weirdly impersonal, although she supposed that shouldn’t have surprised her. It was being used by a dozen different officers, half of whom probably believed the other half were plotting against them. Rachel had done what she could to heighten the paranoia, sending nagging messages to officers she knew to be loyal. They were screwed if they reported the messages and screwed if they didn’t ...

  Archer locked the door, then turned to face her. “I know who you are.”

  Rachel froze, her implants snapping to full alert. If Archer knew who she was ... her mind caught up before she could take his head off. He wouldn’t have summoned her into an office, alone, if he really knew who and what she was. Archer was a coward. If he knew how close he’d come to death ...