by Jim Graham
‘No idea, Sime. But it isn’t good for us to be stuck out here. Shall we go back?’
He looked back up the Avenue to the side street. More people were pouring out of it. Walking against the crowd would be difficult. He looked the other way down Second and saw another side street some fifty meters away.
‘What about we go with the flow and turn off down there?’ Farrin said, pointing.
‘OK. Come on.’
From up ahead, there was a roar and a cheer. It was like a wave. There was an orange glow. Then more. They could see things flying through the air, trailing flame.
‘Shit!’ Simon said. ‘That must be the police lines.’
It was only a hundred metres away. The crowd had nowhere else to go. They were being hemmed in. The crowd became a crush.
‘This is not good,’ Farrin said, holding tightly onto Simon’s shirt, trying to stay close. ‘Now we’re stuck out here.’
70
Scat ate at Reggie’s desk as Thomas explained Trevon’s geography, its demographic composition and population centres, what there were of them, and the locations where the secessionist cause was the best supported. He went on to list many of the known sympathisers in the local media and resource corporations.
Scat absorbed what he could understand of it.
Eventually Reggie walked in holding an overlarge glass of brandy. A couple of his less sensitive dinner guests followed him in. As they took chairs from a stack against the back wall, Reggie planted himself behind his desk, swinging his feet up onto its deeply polished, wooden surface.
Scat stood beside Thomas at the fireplace, poking a smouldering peat block to make it flare up again.
‘So, you’re free, and intent on doing Lynthax some serious damage, eh?’ Reggie asked. ‘Unlike the chattering classes,’ he added, looking back through the door. ‘And don’t worry about word getting out that you’re here: the beggars wouldn’t dare mention it; they already think they’re subverting the established order of things, just by being here.’
Scat took Reggie’s assurances at face value and addressed his question about his commitment:
‘Yes, sir, but there’s no point in doing this piecemeal. It has to be part of a larger action, one that takes us the whole way.’
‘Well that’s a fair demand, isn’t it, Ralph?’ Reggie asked. Ralph Hammond was one of guests who hadn’t objected to adjourning the meeting to Reggie’s study.
‘Um, yes, if it doesn’t cost us too much, Reggie.’
‘You don’t know this young man, do you Ralph?’ Reggie asked.
‘Not well, Reggie. He was working for Nettles. Before that, he was on Prebos.’
As he admitted his ignorance of Scat’s history, he looked over his shoulder to smile at him.
‘Never mind, Ralph,’ Reggie said. ‘Take it from me: this young man has the skills set to cause Lynthax and the Earth contingent some serious inconvenience.’ He then added a prompt: ‘He was at Suez.’
‘Suez? Oh, you mean during the Resource War?’ Again, Ralph looked at Scat, still unable to place him.
Scat waited for a penny to drop, sipping his beer.
Then the curtain lifted.
‘Seb Scatkie – Scateque – Captain Scat… Oh, my heavens! That was you?’
‘Scatkiewicz. Yes, sir.’
Scat didn’t want to play on his history in this way, but if he was to get what he wanted out of this meeting, he needed to ditch the “quiet man” routine. He had to lay his credentials on the table.
‘How was that, my boy?’ Hammond asked, forgetting where he was and why they had gathered. He was genuinely interested.
‘Don’t embarrass the young man, Ralph,’ Reggie said, smiling. ‘Let’s just say, Scat’s talents give us the extra dimension we’ve been lacking up till now.’
‘But we have to act fast,’ Scat reminded everyone. ‘If the delegation is moving on to G-eo then we need to get to Nettles and Marvin before they leave.’
‘The delegation won’t be leaving for a few days, Scat.’
Scat looked around the room, to see who had spoken. He found him in the corner; the man had gone completely unnoticed. Come to think of it, he could not recall the man following Reggie into the room: he had so little physical presence. He was short, pale, and bland looking. An accountant. No, a bookkeeper on life support.
‘G-eo isn’t ready for them,’ the man continued with more confidence than Scat expected. ‘They weren’t due to move on for another couple of weeks. In any case, my sources tell me that they'll ship him directly to Earth on a tanker, probably the V4. That means he might not be so well taken care of: he’ll be in Lynthax’s hands.’
‘Are you suggesting they might not make the trip without mishap, Balsom?’ Hammond asked.
‘Yes. They’ve manufactured the evidence so they’ll not want it to go to trial. A trial may prove that the official story is a lie, and that’ll have implications for Lynthax, or maybe Raddox, or even the Earth Delegation itself. Let’s face it, not even we can be sure who did it. So, Nettles may not even make it to court.’
Hammond wasn’t quite prepared to accept Earth would allow that to happen.
‘That’s quite a dark view you have there,’ he said.
‘But a realistic one,’ Scat agreed. ‘I have my own experience of Petroff. Once you factor in Lynthax’s resources—and those that Colonel Cotton can call on—and the importance of settling the situation in the Outer-Rim, I doubt if there’s anything they couldn’t do. We all need to grow up and recognise this isn’t just another family squabble. It’s a divorce.’
‘Well, we may not need to worry too much about the local police,’ Balsom said. ‘Rumour has it Earth is going to replace them with the ORF. It’ll give them a chance to start over.’
That shocked everyone into a moment’s silence. A complete changing of the guard would alter the dynamics considerably.
‘What about the Lynthax frigate, Venture Raider? Couldn’t they ship them back on that?’ Thomas asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ Balsom replied. ‘It appears to be spending a lot of its time around Prebos. They’ve only just upped the security there again. They don’t want to risk losing the family jewels for a second time.’
‘Then we’ll need the civilian shipping schedule,’ Reggie concluded. He turned to Hammond. ‘What can you do?’
‘No problem, Reggie. I’ll call it up and send it across to you.’
‘Don’t do that, sir,’ Scat said. ‘Reggie, we need to ease off on electronic comms. We shouldn’t give them a road map back to your membership. They may know a lot about you already, but that’s no reason to tip them off about your next move. They’ve left you unmolested for a reason. You’re the bait: the flypaper.’
Reggie reflected on that. The others in the room did so too. They tried to remember what they might have said or done over the past few days, to help point fingers.
‘Fair enough, Scat, but that’ll leave our organisation somewhat deaf, dumb and blind.’
‘True, sir, but right now I’d rather be partially deaf and free, than locked up. I suggest you get Thomas to work on a comms plan. He could also check to see who’s been a little careless.’
‘That’s a bore, Scat. My comms are encrypted in any case,’ Hammond said.
‘But you’re probably using standard commercial encryption: most likely the one that came with the call plan. And who did you buy that from?’
‘Well yes. Point taken.’
‘OK, Scat,’ Reggie said. ‘Thomas, get onto it. Everyone in this room is to have their comms overhauled.’ He looked at everyone in turn, to see if they had accepted the need for it.
They did.
Reggie turned back to Scat. He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward over his desk.
‘Are you suggesting that anyone who’s created too big a “road” be eased out?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And what about organising Nettle’s release?’ Balsom as
ked.
‘That’s probably best left to me. You need to sound credible when you deny involvement. We do that by cutting the link between one side of the organisation and the other.’
Hammond shifted in his seat.
‘This is getting complicated, Reggie. And very Machiavellian,’ he said.
‘Yes it is, Mr Hammond,’ Scat agreed, making a mental note to himself. From what he could make of him, Hammond was the least able of all of those present to cope with Scat’s view of the world and its implications. He might be committed and dedicated, but he was a foppish fool. Reggie had to cut him out of the loop before they got down to making plans. ‘It’s going to get bloody,’ he continued. ‘They won’t release Nettles just because we shout loudly at them or take to writing letters – no offence meant. We need to take direct action, which means it could get bloody. Once it gets bloody, they’ll crack down on the bits of the secessionist movement they’ve left untouched so far. Freeing Nettles is a game-changer.’
‘How so?’ Balsom asked.
Scat stared at him. The question surprised him. Hadn’t they just had a day to think this thing though? He stood there, looking head-cocked at Balsom as he recollected his training in counterinsurgency, this time from a militant’s perspective. Perhaps he needed to back up a little and ask a question of his own first. The obvious one.
‘How what?’
‘How much of a game-changer would it be?’
Everyone looked at him, as though he had the answer. Maybe he had to back up further.
‘Have you thought this through?’ he asked, looking around the room.
‘I have, Scat,’ Balsom replied. ‘I just wonder if everyone else has. It’s worth getting it out in the open.’
Hammond broke the awkward silence that followed.
‘Why, of course we have, Old Chap. We’ve had feelers out for months, looking for the right man.’
Scat swallowed hard. Reggie continued swilling his brandy.
‘And it looks like we found him,’ Hammond added.
‘No. I mean, have you thought about what this’ll mean to you?’ Scat asked. ‘Worked out what it’ll take? Worked out a plan?’
‘Oh, you mean a strategy? Why didn’t you say so, Scat? Of course we have,’ Hammond replied.
‘So, what is it?’
There was a knock at the door, and a member of the household staff brought in a tray filled with mugs and a pot of tea. Hammond waited for the staff to put the tray down and leave the room. He then offered up the plan:
‘Well, once we got the right man, we’d follow his lead.’
Reggie buried his face in his hands.
71
Rogers sat quietly in the corner of the Command and Control soft-track, watching Petroff get increasingly agitated. They were both in full riot gear, but the body armour was of little comfort. Out of the rear window he saw the last of their own people-carriers line up in readiness to push out onto Second Avenue. The police were undermanned, their lines poorly placed, and Lynthax would be stepping in soon. He didn’t relish the thought.
Petroff broke the silence.
‘They won’t keep them back for more than another hour at best, Rogers. Go tell the men to charge the gas guns and power up their stuns. If we must go in, let’s do it so we don’t have to stay all night.’
‘Yes sir. What power?’ Rogers asked.
‘Full. I doubt there’ll be many pacemakers out there. Or pregnant women. And while you’re doing that ask Albright to come over.’
Rogers climbed out the back of the soft-track and ran down the line of vehicles issuing Petroff’s instructions to the vehicle commanders. A few minutes later, a tall man with a long, flat face and a crooked nose appeared at the Command and Control vehicle door.
‘Your goffer said you wanted me, sir,’ he said, standing upright and square, ignoring the chaos around him. Behind him, Rogers dodged the occasional flying rock and bottle as he made his way back along the line.
‘Yes, Albright. Get in here and look at this.’
Albright clambered up and sat next to Petroff who began stabbing at a monitor.
‘That apartment complex there—see it?’ Petroff said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Take a team and get up to the first firebreak. If we need to move in, I want you to pepper the front of the crowd with rubber. Put some of these shits down.’ He pointed to a few rioters who were throwing the Molotovs. ‘As you do that, we’ll drop some stuns behind them to stop the crowd surging forward. Once we’ve made an opening, we’ll send in some snatch squads.’
‘Have they made the call, yet?’ Albright asked.
Right now, it was a police show, so unless the city called them in, they couldn't get involved. Petroff expected the call to come through soon.
‘Not yet. Just get yourselves up there and be ready. I don’t want to be here all night.’
72
When the tea finished doing its rounds, Reggie tried to save the day.
‘What he means, Scat, is we’re open to suggestion. We aren’t the experts.’
Scat was still speechless. They still didn’t have a plan. They were still looking for guidance. He continued to stir his tea. He needed to back up even further.
‘What will you be fighting for?’ he asked. He was already wondering why Reggie would want to risk a family fortune.
Reggie looked up at Hammond and curled his lower lip. The others glanced around, not wanting to be the first to respond. It was a remarkably straightforward question. The answer was anything but.
‘Freedom,’ Paul said.
‘To bring the corporates to heel,’ Thomas added.
Hammond shifted in his chair.
‘For the right to create local law suited to local needs.’
‘Self-determination, Scat,’ Reggie said. ‘The freedom to choose. It’s the most precious gift a father can give his children.’
Scat looked at Balsom.
‘Well?’
‘None of the above, and all of the above, Scat, and, no doubt, more besides. We’re all looking for different things.’
‘Exactly,’ Scat agreed, ‘and it’s the same with the costs we’re willing to bear.’
They looked at him, willing him to explain.
‘OK. Look. Some of you, the ones with the most to gain, may be willing to risk your lives; but the others, the ones who have the most to lose, might only donate a few bucks, then step out of the way – rather like your guests, Reggie.’
Reggie smiled in agreement. Scat carried on.
‘It’s a question of degree, and as with any question of degree, there’s a tipping point. Everyone’s tipping point is different. So your coordinators, organisers, or inner-circle, whatever you going to call them, have to know what the tipping point is for every member of the organisation.’
He then returned to the original question and just laid it out.
‘At the heart of this is personal sacrifice and personal commitment. Whoever co-ordinates this rebellion must be fully committed and have little to lose. They should be prepared to move up-valley, or even across Trevon. Ideally, they should move before things get started, cutting links with family, friends, businesses and money. They live and breathe rebellion until you win.’
Balsom was nodding in agreement. Reggie nodded to show he was following it all. Hammond was still trying to catch up. Scat looked directly at him as he listed some of the obvious consequences.
‘The authorities will confiscate your paper fortunes; screw with your business communications; apply pressure on your clients to dump you, and apply sanctions on any organisation that provides services to you.’
He saw Hammond catch on. He looked a little concerned.
‘As I say, life’ll change,’ he added.
For a few moments, no one spoke. They had talked through the personal sacrifices involved, but not the risk to their fortunes: that had never come up before. The risk of losing everything from the get-go, in return for possib
ly years of uncertainty and no clear outcome, was going to separate the men from the boys. It wasn’t something they could easily overcome: they had no Old World allies who could help them squirrel their money away. Small amounts, maybe, but not their dynastic fortunes.
Reggie didn’t want everyone to dwell on that for too long; he needed to change the topic. He was lucky. A fresh pot of tea arrived.
‘Understood, Scat, so we’re to disperse, we’re to go to ground. We’re to organise a rebellion from underground. Although how we’re supposed to keep in touch with everyone, when we’re living in igloos up the valley without radios, is something we’ll have to figure out.
‘But we still need a public face: people who can interact with Trevons and bring them onside; to negotiate with Earth—that sort of thing.’
Scat was ready for that. That brought him to point 1.01 of every insurgency.
‘That’ll be your elected reps, sir, which is why they have to avoid the military side of the conflict. That’s why the political and military wings connect through a council. The council coordinates everything. But the council can’t be made up of elected politicians or rebel fighters – they can’t be directly involved with either side, and they have to stay off Lynthax’s radar. They’ve to maintain the broader view and be strong enough to broker serious disagreements on strategy.’
If they had one, that is. For an organisation that had some pretty strong views on what it wanted, it was fairly light on a plan to achieve it.
Reggie pursed his lips. The room fell into silence. Reggie looked around the room, but no one appeared eager to make eye contact with him. He looked at Balsam, possibly for support, although it was hard to tell. Either way, Balsam didn’t offer any. Scat sensed that the management structure of the rebellion was still a bone of contention between them and that his proposal didn’t quite gel with Reggie’s ideas on the matter.
Reggie broke the silence.
‘Scat, the whole purpose of this is to build a better society, something that’s more democratic, more representative of “us”. How can we do that if the rebellion is led by an unelected and unaccountable council?’
Scat nodded.
‘Sir, I’m all for the people being represented, but here’s the thing: politicians are crowd-pleasers, willing to compromise to get a seat at the table of power. They may genuinely believe that, over time, we’ll accept a lesser goal. They could start pulling in a different direction, whereas we’ll be putting our dicks on the line every day for what we decide here tonight; risking everything for full independence.’ Scat shook his head. ‘No, we need people who’ll keep everything on track, who can see how things are going from a distance and then make the best decisions.