by Grant, Peter
“The real value is in this next section.” He lifted a box from the tray and opened the lid. It was sub-divided into padded compartments, each containing a stone. “These are alluvial diamonds from the Renosa River, uncut and unpolished. Locals used to sieve the gravel at the bottom of the river for them. They’d occasionally find a good stone, but mostly they got only small stuff – a carat or two at best. The Bactrians brought in dredgers soon after they arrived, and ripped up the entire riverbed for fifty kilometers above the delta. They made the mistake of using our people as slave labor on the project, so all the best diamonds they recovered came to us instead of being sent back to Bactria. The finest of them, twenty in all, are in this little case. They all score very high for clarity and color according to our local experts. Ten are between fifty and one hundred carats, five are one to two hundred, one’s two to three hundred, two are three to four hundred and one’s four hundred twenty carats in weight. We’ve been told by those who know the trade that their combined value is probably over three hundred million Neue Helvetica francs, even in their uncut state. That’s almost half as much as we’ve got in our Treasury account.”
Dave stared at them, fascinated. “I’d never have thought that nondescript-looking stones like that could be worth so much.”
“They are, believe me! The Vice-President will have to select an honest diamond broker to sell them on her behalf. There are apparently lots of sharks in that profession, but with a little research she should be able to find someone trustworthy. We’ve buried the others that were smuggled to us in five separate locations.” He showed Dave a fat envelope at the bottom of the box, beneath the stone-filled compartments. “That contains images of the sites, plus their planetary co-ordinates and bearing and distance from local landmarks, in case you’re ever able to retrieve them. They’re smaller stones, but there are a lot more of them. In total they’re probably worth almost as much as the stones in this box. The envelope also contains initial expert assessments of each of these stones, plus a provisional valuation.”
He replaced the box in the tray, removed a cloth bag from the next compartment, untied its drawstrings and poured its contents onto the table. They were small metal shapes, cubes or oval rounds made of solid gold. “These are gold taels. It’s an ancient measure of weight for precious metals, about thirty-seven and a half grams. They’re very common in commerce on planets with Oriental populations, particularly Chinese, where they’re regarded as equal to cash or even better.” He picked one up and showed Dave the seal of the mint where it had been cast, and the fineness grading stamped on it. “There are seventy-nine of them in this bag. Use them for expenses during your journey, or for a quick bribe if necessary.” He scooped them back into the bag and returned it to its place in the tray.
“Finally, there are these.” He took an envelope from the last compartment and extracted several check-sized documents made of heavy plaspaper, impervious to the elements, each with an embedded and chipped seal. “These are Neue Helvetica bearer bank drafts.”
“I’ve never heard of them before, Sir,” Dave confessed.
“Think of them in the same way as cashier’s checks. They’re issued by major banks on Neue Helvetica, like the Handelsbank where we keep our Treasury account. The issuing bank guarantees that it holds funds to the value of the draft. It’ll pay them on presentation, or transfer them to a bank of the bearer’s choosing on any planet. They’re widely used and trusted in interplanetary commerce – the next best thing to a gold bar, I suppose. Local businesses had some that hadn’t been cashed when the war began. They come to a total of over twenty-five million Neue Helvetica francs.” He replaced them in the envelope. “Use them as necessary to cover your expenses. You’ll find branches or agents of the bigger Helvetica banks on most major planets. They’ll validate the drafts and cash them in hard currency at a five per cent discount to face value. That means you’ll get ninety-five per cent of the funds. The balance is the bank’s profit, and also covers the cost of redeeming them at Neue Helvetica.”
“I get it.” Dave grinned suddenly. “You’re being very trusting, giving me all this money.”
“If you’re not trustworthy, we’ve wasted our time on you all these years! Besides, if we don’t give it to you, the Bactrians will get it all eventually.”
“Anything but that!” Gloria said emphatically.
“Agreed.” He turned to the fourth, uppermost tray. “This contains a number of items. First, there are diplomatic passports for all the members of your team, valid for ten years, accredited to our Government-in-Exile.” He displayed a sheaf of chips, each with a diplomatic seal. “Vice-President Johns will have to register them with the United Planets, but that’s just a formality – they’re valid as issued. We’ve also included several dozen blank passports, both diplomatic and regular, plus the authentication program to encode them with the bearer’s details and activate them. We have no further need for them, but she may find them useful.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Next, these chips contain master files that should be readable by most fabric extruders, autotailors and fabbers. They contain detailed instructions to produce Laredo Army uniforms and medals. I’ve included a certified list of the awards all of you have earned over the years, even though we’ve usually notified you of them through your commanders and issued certificates rather than held formal investiture parades.”
Dave frowned. “Sir, medals seem pretty meaningless after all the fighting we’ve seen. Besides, most of us lost what originals we had when we abandoned bases in a hurry during enemy raids. I can’t say I’ve missed mine. Why bother with them now?”
“Because you’ll be dealing with diplomats and politicians who’ll be impressed by them, and most particularly because other military men will recognize that you earned them the hard way. They’ll speak volumes about your experience, and hopefully earn you the respect of those who may be able to help you. A fabric extruder can duplicate the ribbons, and I want you to have a fabber produce copies of the medals. A jeweler can polish and enamel them as necessary. All of you should wear them with your uniforms on formal occasions. Do I have to make it an order?”
“No, Sir. We’ll do it, but only because it’s you asking.”
Allred sighed. “I suppose I should be flattered.” They all chuckled. “Very well. In this next compartment are two pulsers, each with a holster, spare power pack and ammunition. They’re in scan-proof boxes. Unless someone searches the suitcase by hand they won’t be detected – and a hand search is unlikely, thanks to these.” He indicated a transparent envelope containing a stack of seals. “These are diplomatic seals to be applied to this suitcase. Coupled with your diplomatic passports, they should be sufficient to get this stuff through Customs without it being inspected – at least, they will on the larger, more law-abiding planets. If you end up on some backwater planet where civilized standards aren’t the norm, they probably won’t help you.”
“I’ll try to avoid places like that, Sir.”
“Good. Remember that you can’t carry weapons on most planets, even with diplomatic passports, unless you qualify to do so under local laws and regulations. Once you’re aboard the ship you’re going to have to dump all your military weapons before landing anywhere else. In fact, the skipper will probably insist that you put them all into your assault shuttle, then he’ll drop it into the star of some uninhabited system before going on to his – your – destination.”
Dave shook his head. “It’ll feel like being naked to be unarmed after so many years with a weapon always on or near me, Sir.”
“I know. That’s why I included these pulsers in the suitcase. They won’t be as easily accessible as a weapon on your person, but at least you know they’re there. If you get any warning of imminent danger, you’ll hopefully be able to get to them before anything blows up.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Then there are these.” He took two small envelopes from the penultimate compartment. “They’re our two b
earer bank keys for Laredo’s Handelsbank account. One was in the custody of the Secretary of the Treasury and the other of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Before the war our account contained something over six hundred million Neue Helvetica francs – not much by the standards of major planets, but a fortune by ours. It’s all still there. Guard them with your life until you deliver them to the Vice-President. They’re as important as the evidence, because without them she can’t access the funds needed to initiate a UP investigation.”
“Will do, Sir.” Dave hesitated. “If she hasn’t had access to our account, how has she been able to pay for her needs over the past few years?”
“We sent funds and hard assets off-planet with her – all we could scrape together on such short notice. She’s had to operate on a tight budget, but she’s coped, or so I’m told.”
“Yes, Sir. I understood she has a key, and our Ambassador to the UP has the fourth. Who has the fifth, please, Sir?”
“The fifth was held by President Wexler. When the Bactrians captured him, they got his key too. They tortured him until he signed a letter authorizing them to use it, then tried to withdraw our funds from the Handelsbank; but of course the bank refused, because any transaction requires the physical presence of three of our five bank keys. The Bactrians were furious, and even tried to get the United Planets to exert pressure on their behalf; but it has no jurisdiction over private banks, so they got nowhere. By then President Wexler was dead – of disease according to them, but we believe he died as the result of torture – so they couldn’t use him to pressure the Vice-President or our Ambassador to the UP to hand over their keys.”
“I see, Sir. What happens if I can’t get to the Vice-President at first? Say I meet up with our Ambassador to the UP. Should I give him the bank keys and the rest of this stuff?”
“Not under any circumstances! We’re not entirely sure of the Ambassador’s loyalty – he’s made noises in the past about ‘the need for a negotiated settlement with Bactria’. Your orders state specifically and unequivocally that the only person off-planet who’s entitled to give you orders or take custody of these articles is Vice-President Johns. No-one else is in your chain of command once you leave here, unless and until she tells you differently. Until you reach her, you alone are in charge of the keys and everything else in this suitcase. Your orders make that clear. Understood?”
“Understood, Sir… but that’s a hell of a responsibility for a junior officer, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“It is, but you’re a hell of a responsible officer, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“It’s good to be appreciated, Sir. Can I have a raise, please?” More laughter.
“When were you last paid, anyway?” Gloria asked
Dave shrugged. “A couple of years ago, I think. I must have built up a pretty good sum in back pay by now!”
“Take it out of the suitcase for all of you once you figure it out,” she suggested. “It should be enough for a heck of a party somewhere.”
“I don’t see why not,” her husband agreed. “Last but not least, here are your orders.” He took another envelope from the last compartment in the tray. “They’re in electronic format, but I’ve included a printout.” He handed it to Dave. “They’re in accordance with our discussions over the past couple of days. Read them carefully, and if there’s anything that isn’t clear see me before you leave.”
“Will do, Sir.”
“I’ve tried to cover all the bases, because once you leave here we’ll no longer be able to advise you. I want to highlight a few points. First, you’ve been appointed Commanding Officer of all external – that is, off-planet – armed forces of the Republic of Laredo. Since we can’t really have an officer at junior level occupying such a post, you’ll be promoted to the rank of Major with effect from the day you leave this planet. You’ve been given the authority to recruit, enlist and commission personnel as required, and promote them – including yourself – and assign them to combat and non-combat missions and responsibilities. That authority will remain in force and effect unless and until terminated under the authority of the Great Seal of the Republic of Laredo. Our Declaration of Emergency when the Bactrians looked certain to invade assigned the Seal to Vice-President Johns in her capacity as President pro tempore of our Government-in-Exile. We registered the Declaration with the United Planets to ensure that other planets recognize that authority. She may surrender it only to her freely chosen successor in that office, or on demand to a President of Laredo legitimately elected under our pre-invasion Constitution. Only the authorized bearer of the Seal has final authority over Laredo’s external assets, personnel, policies and actions.
“Second, your primary mission is to get this evidence to Vice-President Johns. Thereafter you’ll make yourself and your detachment available to her. In the event that you’re unable to reach or receive orders from her, I’ve given you sole discretion as to your future conduct. You’re free to continue hostilities with Bactria as best you can; or you can disband your unit and discharge its members from the armed forces of Laredo, giving them an opportunity to make a new life elsewhere. If you can’t arrange for a United Planets inquiry, you’re requested to publicize what Bactria did to Laredo, using this evidence as effectively as possible under the circumstances confronting you. To accomplish all these things you’re authorized to use as you see fit the contents of this suitcase and any other external resources of Laredo that may be available to you.”
Dave swallowed. “That’s a pretty heavy load to put on my shoulders, Sir.”
“It is, but I see no alternative. Do you?”
“I guess not. I’ll do my best, Sir.”
“Good.” He began to replace the trays in the suitcase. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you – but I will anyway – to instruct the other members of your orbital team what to do with this suitcase in the event that you’re incapacitated or killed.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“All right, then.” He closed the suitcase and fastened its latches. “I’ll put this aboard your shuttle, to join you after you take the garrison at Caristo.”
Dave shook his head. “Sir, with your permission I’d rather take it with me. It’ll be no less safe in our hideout near Caristo than it will be here, and that way I won’t be worrying about it all the time. I can have some of our attack team mount guard over it if you wish.”
Allred frowned, then reluctantly nodded. “I daresay you’re right.” He handed over the suitcase. “Two last things. First, we’re entrusting you with two of our nuclear demolition charges.”
Dave’s eyes widened with surprise. “I thought the Bactrians got them when they took the space station, Sir.”
“They were kept there for use against asteroids or space hazards, but when the survivors escaped planetside they brought the five charges with them. We’ve kept that quiet and hidden them ever since. We’re in the process of burying three of them in a remote spot. I’ll give you the location for future reference in case you’re ever able to retrieve them. The last two will be put aboard your shuttle, along with instructions in their use and the necessary codes and keys to activate them. Use one or both to destroy the space station. If you have one left, shove it out of the freighter with a half-hour time setting when you reach the system boundary, then hyper-jump away before it goes off.”
“Will do, Sir.”
“Good. Second, here’s a satellite back-door channel.” He handed him a folded slip of paper. “In the event that you get away, and you need to communicate with any of us who survive on this planet by sending a ship the way Marvin has, tell whoever you send to try a tight-beam link to our comm satellite network at midnight every night, Banka time. Use that channel and our standard codebook. If we’re able to, someone will answer. If we don’t, it’ll probably mean the Resistance has collapsed and we’re all dead.”
“Understood, Sir.”
“In that case, all that remains is for us to wish you su
ccess. We’ll see you and the garrison attack team for the last time tonight, to bid you farewell and Godspeed.”
PART TWO
March 30th 2850 GSC
TAPURIA
Jake pulled down the corner of one of the blinds and glanced through the cracked, dirty glass at the street below. An armored car rumbled past, tires crunching over scattered dirt and debris. Its power pack whined and its badly adjusted turret made a grinding noise as it turned slightly from side to side. Its commander looked over the barrel of the vehicle’s plasma cannon as he scanned the street ahead, not bothering to turn his head to examine the half-ruined warehouses lining it. He looked bored in the rays of the setting sun. Jake knew that here at the outer edge of TrafCon’s security zone, nothing ever happened – not with missile batteries, plasma and laser cannon, and security forces within arm’s reach, ready to open fire at the drop of a hat and drop it themselves if they felt like it. No-one in his right mind would start anything here.
Jake let the blind fall as he grinned to himself, thinking, No-one ever said the Resistance was in its right mind – and the Bactrians have gotten careless about checking just outside the zone. They only worry about what’s inside it. That’s going to hurt them. In just a few hours we’re going to demonstrate that a security zone’s only as good as the people who run it… and sometimes they’re not very good at all.
He turned back to the others. “It’s just another street patrol. Nothing to worry about.”
“Supper, Sir?” Lieutenant Kubicka asked.
“I may as well eat,” he grunted, scanning the selection of ration packs lined up on the table. He reached for one labeled ‘Meat Stew’. “This is easy to digest, even if it isn’t very tasty.”
“It won’t give you gas like the beans and sausage, either, Sir.”
“Yes. It’d be just too much to go into action farting. I bet the Bactrians would complain we’d used poison gas on them!”