Bemish paused. Then he added, smiling.
"My company is bankrupt. My stocks are worth less than rutabaga in a farmer's market. I don't care whether my creditors get one cent or ten cents for a dinar."
X X X
By the time sunrise came to Assalah spaceport and another working day ended in Melbourne, the Federation capital, the news of the Assalah accident had spread across the whole Galaxy. Assalah was photographed from above, from below and from the side. This place used to be known only to a small group of financiers as a great example of investment into a development market. Now it occupied the front pages of newspapers. A number of channels started delivering hourly news from Assalah. Everybody was waiting for the broadcast that was assigned to start (after minor technical arguments with Kissur) at fifteen thirty. Even if Kissur hadn't given his horrible ultimatum — five shot hostages for every minute of delay — few people would've missed such a possibility to peep at history.
X X X
The division arrived in Weian orbit by seven. They landed in Salgar spaceport by eight and, in four hours, military helicopters unloaded most of the commandoes next to Bemish's villa. Tanks, gleaming dully and looking like huge beetles, spread in a large semicircle; indecipherable peeps of coded signals filled ether; soldiers had already started setting hardy camouflaged tents; bread and canned meat were being passed to the companies off the helicopters.
At the same time, the first media conference finally took place. Weian "yellow jackets" ran a body search on a dozen of journalists, crammed them in a bus and drove them to the villa. There, Shavash, Bemish and Envoy Severin sat decorously in a row, expecting them.
Shavash familiarized the media with Kissur's ultimatum and he kept talking for a while. Accordingly to his words, the Weian government would not allow any nationalization of private industry to take place. He also said that as the Assalah emergency committee head, he had requested the Federation's military assistance and that 11th space commando division was currently disembarking next to Assalah.
"Are they going to attack the spaceport?" a journalist asked.
"Absolutely not," Shavash lied unabashedly. "We can't endanger the hostages. We are going to blockade the spaceport so that we can negotiate from a better position."
At fifteen thirty, Bemish and the other members of the emergency committee gathered to watch the broadcast made by the hostage journalists.
One had to admit that the journalists did their best. They made it clear that they were reporting at gun point. They made it clear that the men who had them at gun point would sacrifice the other people's lives unhesitatingly. They also made it clear that the terrorists would also sacrifice their own lives unhesitatingly.
Their denunciations were horrifying. The cameras coldly stared inside the reinforced chutes while, behind the screen, Kissur monotonously commented that these particular types of boarding joints were built only for military rockets. The dull sides of Cassiopeia missiles gleamed slightly. The old accusations spread by zealots about the spaceport's dual purpose were confirmed. The most fantastic rumors spread by Gera about the Federation clandestinely breaking the non-proliferation treaties pompously signed in the past were also confirmed.
Luxury cars had been imported labeled as assistance to the victims of natural disasters and ancient Lamass vases had been exported as scrap brass. Laws and regulations had been flouted at an incredible scale. The takeover of the spaceport looked like a desperate attempt — however cruel and despicable it was — to demonstrate the scale of current administration's thievery, corruption and treachery. Several Earth auditors and financiers unwillingly confirmed Ashinik's calculations of the chicanery that had taken place at the spaceport.
Once the broadcast had come to an end, the party of people's freedom started a media conference. It was relayed to Weia in real time and to the Galaxy with a five minute delay.
Kissur and his cronies sat in the company's director office. Kissur said that right after the conference, they would start releasing the hostages.
"Aren't you afraid," a journalist asked, "that they will obliterate you immediately after the hostages are released?"
Here Kissur answered that the party of people's freedom had acted out of despair and had tried to reveal the ultimate corruption of the current government. They also wanted to demonstrate that the military treaties, catastrophic for Weia, did in fact exist in spite of blatant denials coming from the government. Killing several thousand unarmed peasants would only confirm the treaty's presence and it would be difficult to imagine the government ready to compromise itself so much.
Ashinik spoke afterwards.
He said that certain corrupted Weian officials attempted to force the Emperor to follow their policies. When the Emperor had refused to oblige them, they forced him to declare the elections. They hoped to gain the power that the Emperor refused them by lying to the people. When the bureaucrats' party lost the elections, they refused to acknowledge their results.
Ashinik stressed that he was one of leaders of the party that had won the elections and his demands were the demands of the people. He declared that his party demanded the complete changeover of the government and that the most corrupted officials should be taken to trial. He declared that people wanted to see Kissur as the first minister and he listed the remaining future cabinet. (Ashinik would become the finance minister.) Ashinik said that the Weian government would have to stop payments on its loans.
"The largest part of the country's debt consists of private bank loans that the finance ministry had been bribed to take at a very high interest," Ashinik declared. "It's very difficult for me to say this but it's the only way out for a country where the total taxation amount is smaller that the debt payments. In any case, it's absolutely impossible that the most profitable companies would use paying this debt off as an excuse to avoid paying taxes and would turn into practically independent states inside our country. At first Shavash received millions leading the country into a debt trap and now he wants to receive billions getting the country out of this trap."
Ashinik also claimed that in exceptional cases, related to the state security or following ultimate abuses of the state's interests, foreign companies should be nationalized. Assalah spaceport was such a case.
"The Assalah spaceport's director claims," a journalist said, "that you would like to nationalize all Weian industry, throw the foreigners out and ban private property. Is it true?"
"That's a monstrous lie," Ashinik stated. "I don't know where Bemish got this idea."
X X X
The press conference with Kissur in Assalah spaceport and the press conference with emergency committee at Bemish's villa, ten kilometers away, took place practically simultaneously. Shavash, Bemish and Earth envoy answered the journalists' questions.
They asked Bemish what he could say about the new government's demands and Bemish stated, "The banishment of foreign businessmen would only be the first step. Having obtained power, these people will start nationalizing industry."
"How do you know this?" a journalist asked.
"Their leader, Ashinik, officially stated that at our last meeting."
"We have also received this information," the journalist said. "Ten minutes ago, Ashinik, Yadan and Kissur claimed that they had never said such a stupid thing. How would you explain, Mr. Bemish, the fact that during the election campaign the party of people's freedom had been repeatedly and falsely claimed to hold monstrous views and programs?"
Bemish gaped at such affront of the terrorists. "Oh-oh, I got it," a thought glanced in his head.
"This party has never taken hostages either!" Severin exploded, "hasn't it? They are practically saints!"
"Is it true that a secret military agreement signed during Assalah construction included building a military base at the spaceport and delivery and storage of Cassiopeia missiles?"
"That's a monstrous lie," the envoy said.
"How will you then explain the presence of the missiles
at the spaceport?"
"We are currently investigating how terrorists were able to steal these missiles from one of our space military bases and transport them to Assalah."
"Are you trying to say that they stole twelve missiles from our bases in such a way that nobody noticed anything and that the best use of them the thief was able to figure out was to hide them at a storage area that could be unlocked only by two people in the Galaxy?"
"We are investigating it."
"Could you, please, tell us, if the fact that Earth troops have been summoned here confirms that there was a secret military agreement? Does it also confirm, indirectly, that the presence of missiles was a part of the agreement?"
"No."
X X X
Kissur held his word. Immediately after the end of the press conference, the journalists started taping buses and monorail trains leaving the spaceport. The hostages cried, but were incredibly obedient. The fighters screamed that they would shoot anybody who would cut the line trying to get into a bus and nobody tried cutting the line.
Five LSV bank employees and Ronald Trevis — bearing some cuts and biting his lips — left with one of the buses. Journalists ambushed him leaving the bus but he blocked his face with his hands, bolted to a helicopter and flew to Arvadan. Two hours later he left Arvadan for Earth and became completely inaccessible. Journalists yearned to question the king of the hidden market about his company's part in financing the most scandalous construction of the century. The journalists didn't have their yearning satisfied and they had to limit themselves with their own commentaries. These commentaries were not particularly benevolent.
By 18:00 the last train with passenger hostages left the platform. About eighty employees stayed in the spaceport — they were necessary for the crucial spaceport's systems to function. Five hundred armed fighters and several thousand Weian zealot peasants also stayed.
X X X
Also by 18:00, next to the spaceport the 11th division had almost finished d disembarking. Heavy helicopters were landing right on the fields behind the company director's villa, amphibian tanks were crawling out of their bellies and sturdy guys in bulletproof uniforms were jumping out.
Bemish walked down where the same two counter-intelligence guys were meeting the division commander — colonel Rogov, short and sturdy like a ball bearing.
"I think," The colonel said, "that Mr. Bemish should also take part in the planning of the operation. As I understand, you have constructed this spaceport and you should know how to infiltrate the buildings with minimal losses."
"Yes," Bemish nodded, "I've already thought about it. For instance, there is a place where the monorail station's ventilation chutes are right next to a cave system. It wouldn't be difficult to enter the caves about three kilometers away from here. We had to reinforce them during construction."
"That's excellent," the colonel rejoiced.
"Unfortunately," Bemish continued, "a man named Ashinik was my closest assistant. He is now heading the terrorists and he remembers this story with the caves quite well."
One of counter-intelligence officers swore loudly.
"What do you think about toxic gases?" the colonel asked.
"I have to disappoint you. A possibility of chemical attack or, more precisely, an explosion or damage of rocket elements emitting toxins has been taken into account during the construction. A monitoring system would automatically turn an alarm on, block buildings off and start detoxification."
The colonel bit his lips for a while.
"I am not a military man," Bemish said, "but I think that if you want to kick the terrorists out of the spaceport, the only way to do it is to drive tanks in and shoot at everything that shoots or surrenders.
"It looks like you are correct," the colonel said.
"What losses will you sustain?" the envoy asked the colonel.
"Well, I don't think that this party of people's freedom will fight all that well. It's just civilians…"
Bemish got suddenly irritated at the military man.
"The zealots can't fight. But if I were you, I wouldn't be in a hurry to classify Aloms as civilians…"
"Aloms?!"
Bemish looked at him, surprised.
"I mean Kissur's Aloms. It's a mountain people who… Listen, haven't you been briefed about the Assalah takeover?"
"No," the commander said, "I don't know the details. The assistance request said that it was a rebellion of Weian zealots who had won the elections."
"Generally, it's correct," the envoy shrugged his shoulders. "The majority of people in the spaceport are zealots."
"So, is the spaceport occupied by Aloms and not by the indigenous people of the Empire?" the colonel specified with unnatural lack of expression.
"What difference does it make for you?" the exasperated envoy shouted.
Bemish shuddered.
"Sorry, colonel, but how do you know about the difference between Weians and Aloms?"
"Yes," the colonel said, "what's the difference? We follow orders."
It was already dark, when Bemish, having finished briefing colonel Rogov on the spaceport's specific details, walked into the garden.
Bemish had never run into the Federation Army before even though he had recently become acquainted to the Federation Counter Intelligence. He liked colonel Rogov — Bemish had considered military people to be much more stupid. One thing astounded him. There were dozens of populated planets in the Galaxy. Weia was located in the backyard of the civilized world. How could a Federal Army colonel know about the enmity between Weians and Aloms who had conquered the former a number of times? When did they start teaching galactic ethnography in military academies? Even he, Bemish, had needed quite a bit of time to realize how deep was the gap between the peoples that outsider observers considered to belong to the same race — the "Empire people" and the "mountainous barbarians."
Bemish stood and looked at the night bustling with people. Somewhere an engine yelped piteously like a cat that somebody kept stepping on the tail. The crackling of cicadas mixed with rustling of faraway power stations. That's it. Tomorrow this division would throw all its force at the construction — he had dedicated the last two years of his life to this construction and he had put his soul into it. They would hack the roadways with their tanks, turn buildings and terminals into dust. Crazy zealots would face the tanks with prayers and spells; they would be sure that all this machinery was simply demonic phantoms and that their leaders would rise into the air and turn the demonic fighting machines into paper and their grenade launchers into beans…
Tomorrow Kissur would die. Because even if a termite shell's direct hit didn't flatten him into the floor and a fan laser burst didn't find him and a shock wave didn't roll over him, he would still kill himself. It would happen because Kissur always lived as if he had died a long time ago. Never would Kissur let himself be taken alive by commandos called in by Shavash.
And then somebody just to Bemish's left said in Alom,
"Do you have a fag?"
Bemish turned there in astonishment.
A Federation soldier sitting next to a fire silently flicked a pack of cigarettes to his comrade.
Bemish rushed to the soldier. The latter was clicking his lighter but having seen a civilian he stood up to attention hurriedly.
"What have you just said?" Bemish asked.
"I asked for a smoke, sir," the soldier was speaking English now. He spoke it with a strange but quite familiar accent.
A horrible hunch entered Bemish's mind.
"Are you Alom?" he asked sharply in Alom. The soldier was silent.
"Are you Alom?"
Federation soldiers are forbidden to speak foreign languages, sir," the private replied.
"To the hell with this! What's your name?"
"Khaina, sir."
Khaina, "wolf," was one of the most widely used names among the fighting clans of the mountainous country.
"Whose vassal was your father?"
"He was a vassal of Sarvak clan."
Sarvak clan! Sarvaks were vassals of the White Falcon clan that Kissur belonged to.
"How many Aloms are in the division?" Bemish asked trying to suppress shudder in his voice.
"I can't know, sir. We are Federation soldiers and we swore an oath to serve the Federation. Aloms do not break their oaths."
Bemish paused. Ten soldiers sitting around the fire looked at him with curiosity. Almost everybody had blond or reddish hair, wide eyes and eyebrows tips that were almost flying…
"What's your contract salary?" Bemish asked suddenly.
"Three hundred credits a year, sir," Khaina said.
Three hundred credits a year! The minimal yearly unemployment benefits for a Federation citizen was eleven hundred twelve credits!
Bemish turned and walked away searching for the colonel. Now he understood why the latter knew the difference between Aloms and Weians.
X X X
Bemish found Rogov in the living room. The colonel and several of his officers watched the day's broadcast closely. The colonel was interested not in the broadcast's content but rather in the layout of hangars, storages and chutes. The officers were watching the broadcast for the third time and the sound was turned off. It was difficult to guess, looking at their faces, what they thought about the broadcast after having seen it the first time.
"Colonel! How many Aloms are in the division?"
The colonel and the officers turned around like one. It looked like there were no Aloms among them except for this one, on the side… No, he was not an Alom, he was a half-breed something like a mix of a Dane and a Vietnamese…
"Nobody has counted them," the colonel said calmly, as if he had been waiting for this question for a while, "but I think that it's about eighty to eighty five percent."
"Eighty?!! Why?"
The colonel grinned.
"Mr. Bemish, have you ever served in the army?"
"No."
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