"Religious, my leader. The army divides along sectarian lines."
"There will be no exceptions! Have the refusers shot. Shoot the entire army if you have to. We'll recruit new soldiers."
Gorman grinned. That was the old Dominic de Tomas!
This was to be the most elaborate awards ceremony ever staged on Kingdom, the first of many planned.
The Special Group honor guard, dressed in stunning black and silver uniforms, marched smartly into the Great Hall of Wayvelsberg Castle to the stirring notes of "Raise the Flag." The music and lyrics, adapted from an old hymn, were now the signature of the Socialist Party of Kingdom, and by default, Kingdom's anthem. Everyone stood as the black and silver flag of the SPK passed down the hall.
The honor guards' boot heels clacked in sharp cadence on the flagstones as the men marched to the center of the Great Hall and came to a halt facing Heinrich the Fowler's statue, just below a dais that had been erected in front of the sculpture. De Tomas, Herten Gorman, General Lambsblood, and the ministers of de Tomas's cabinet stood at rigid attention on the dais. When the last notes of "Raise the Flag" had faded away into the vast shadowed recesses of the Great Hall, the assembled honorees, their families and guests, lesser government officials, the media, and carefully selected members of the public resumed their seats.
The susurration arising from hundreds of people shifting in their seats in anticipation, clearing their throats, and rustling programs filled the hall. Herten Gorman stepped to the microphones. "Comrades! Countrymen! We are one people united under one government guided by one leader. I give you our leader!" His voice resounded throughout the hall, and immediately the vast crowd went completely silent.
Dominic de Tomas—no longer Dominic de Tomas but the Leader!—stepped to the podium, exercising the now familiar but highly effective mannerisms of the accomplished speaker. He stood silently, arms braced on the podium as if gathering his thoughts. He stepped back, as if to begin his speech, hesitated, bowed his head, folded his arms, rocked back and forth on his feet, and then, arms raised as if to embrace the throng, began:
"Citizens of Kingdom!" He paused for several long seconds, taking in the assemblage before him. "Welcome! Your presence here this morning does great honor to your countrymen who will soon be recognized for their service to our community. In every great age of human history, ordinary people have come forward to do extraordinary deeds in service to their fellows. The men and women who will soon stand beside me on this platform are no exception. And you here today and those watching and listening outside this Great Hall are living representatives of our people, embodying the transcendent ideals of honor, loyalty, and sacrifice, the foundation stones of our new and regenerated society."
De Tomas's voice rang throughout the hall and across the continent like a clarion call. For years the people of Kingdom had lived under the divisive and tenuous control of the religious sects, never knowing from one minute to the next when dreadful conflict might break out, their individuality stifled by the oppressive rules and traditions of sectarian bigots. So debilitated had their society become that off-worlders had to be asked to come to their aid during the demon invasion. That invasion had destroyed their cities, towns, farms, and businesses, visited death and grievous wounds upon their families and friends, and left their lives in ruin. Now someone was promising them a chance to start over again, and something better.
A man near the front row—not a plant either—leaped to his feet and bellowed, "Hail the Leader!" and as if that were the signal, all the people rose simultaneously, roaring out "Hail! Hail! Hail the Leader!" over and over until the Great Hall rang with voices raised in ecstasy. They had been swept up in that rapturous state of being outside oneself, overcome by a sense of being lifted up by a larger force.
De Tomas and his cabinet stood basking in the enthusiasm of the roaring crowd. Eventually de Tomas raised his arms and the shouting subsided, but no sooner had it died down enough that he was able to speak, than someone took up the cry again and the hall shook with their shouted adulation. This went on for many minutes before de Tomas succeeded at last in getting them to take their seats.
Jayben Spears, as a special guest of the Leader, sat near the front of the audience with his secretary, Felicia Coombs-d'Merten. "I thought I knew that man," he whispered into Felicia's ear, "but this"—he gestured at the dais—"even I almost started shouting." Spears was fascinated by the performance, because in private de Tomas's manner of speech was quiet and reserved.
"I don't think this demonstration was planned, sir," Felicia whispered.
"That's what scares me," Spears answered. The pair had stood with the rest of the cheering crowd, albeit reluctantly, but those sitting nearby had noted angrily the ambassador's sour expression and his evident hesitation to rise and participate in the spontaneous adulation.
"Shhh!" a nattily attired man sitting on Spears's immediate left whispered harshly.
Spears leaned toward the man and said in his normal voice, through a cupped hand, "Fuck you!"
Shortly after seizing power, de Tomas had created a "pyramid of honor," a series of awards to recognize valor and meritorious service by government, military personnel, and citizens who had performed outstanding acts of bravery or service to the community. Outwardly, the ceremony was no different than one any other government might host to honor its outstanding people, but de Tomas had two objectives he wanted the events to accomplish. First, he needed a "pantheon" of heroes to call his own. Once recognized formally and publicly for their deeds and accomplishments, those people would be bound to him. They would become icons of the conduct and self-sacrifice he expected of everyone under his new government, role models for the rest of the citizens. Second, involving as many people as possible publicly in the affairs of the SPK bound them to the political and moral tenets of the party and opened the door for the party to further intrude itself into their lives, and thereby control them under the umbrella of shared community service.
De Tomas signaled to his adjutant, who came forward to make the official presentations.
The highest decoration in the SPK's pyramid of honor was the valor award called the "Knight's Cross with Diamonds." It was a beautiful decoration, crafted by one of the most skilled jewelers in the city of Haven. It consisted of a solid gold cross pattee in a silver frame, surmounted by a cluster of oak leaves under crossed swords studded with real diamonds. It was designed to be worn suspended around the wearer's neck by a black and silver ribbon. Lesser orders of the same award existed in silver and bronze but without the diamonds.
The adjutant opened the award binder. It was encased in genuine leather and printed on a vellum sheet embossed with a full-color representation of the Knight's Cross.
"Private Kater Rumia, First Company, Second Regiment, Third Brigade of the First Division, Army Group A, come forward!" A young man in the dress uniform of the Army of the Lord sitting in the front row came to attention and marched briskly up onto the platform. Sitting next to him were his parents, his company officers, and several of his close comrades, all of whom beamed with pride as they watched him receive his award. The cameras did not fail to catch the tears in his mother's eyes, whether from pride in her son's achievement or relief that he had survived to receive the award, but in any case it was just what the Minister of Propaganda and Popular Culture had hoped for when he set up the elaborate spectacle.
De Tomas and General Lambsblood stepped forward and stood beside Private Rumia. "In the name of the people of Kingdom, I bestow upon Private Kater Rumia, in recognition of bravery above and beyond the call of duty, the Knight's Cross in Gold with Diamonds, given this sixth day of the third month in the city of Haven, signed Dominic de Tomas, the Leader and Supreme Commander of the Kingdom Armed Forces." The adjutant then read the accompanying citation. Private Rumia had indeed performed a deed of considerable valor in a counterattack against the demons. But left unmentioned was the sacrifice of the Marine corporal who'd actually led the counterattack.
He had been awarded the Bronze Star medal—posthumously.
Reverently, de Tomas lifted the medal from its velvet-lined case and draped it carefully around the soldier's neck. Both he and General Lambsblood shook the young man's hands.
The next honoree was a surprise: General Lambsblood. De Tomas presented him with the Order of the Kingdom Eagle, the highest decoration for meritorious service. The ribbon for this award was a sash designed to be worn diagonally, slung from the wearer's left shoulder. The medal itself was a heavy Maltese cross in solid silver with golden eagles between each arm, the eyes of the eagles set in rubies.
"The kiss of death," Spears whispered as de Tomas draped the sash over the general's shoulder.
The awards went on. There were awards for achievement in culture and science, in sports, and one even for motherhood: the Mother's Cross of Honor, a blue-enameled cross pattee outlined in silver, the centerpiece a goshawk set upon a Greek shield edged with the words in gold, "Honor Cross of the Kingdom Mother." The reverse of each cross was engraved with the date of presentation and Dominic de Tomas's signature. There were three orders of the award designated by the composition of the shield: gold for mothers who had born eight children or more, silver for women who'd had five, six, or seven offspring, and bronze for families of up to four children. The children did not have to be alive for a woman to receive the award, and their gender was of no consequence.
The first woman so honored had borne thirteen children during her lifetime. Now retired, a widow, and living quietly in one of Haven's distant suburbs, she had overnight been turned into a national heroine. The award carried a small stipend, but the widow was grateful for it. Ten of her children were dead, six sons killed in the recent war against the demons. In presenting the award, de Tomas said: "God has declared that the mother's heart is the sacrificial vessel of this great age. Your cup, dearest mother of our people, runneth over."
As he bent down to place the award around the old woman's neck, he saw an image of his own mother, as she was when he was a young man struggling to make a go of his poultry business. She'd said to him, "Dominic, why don't you come to see me more often? Oh, well, I know you're busy, I know you have responsibilities, I know you don't have time to call. Don't worry. I'll be all right. Don't bother about this old woman. I'll just sit here alone in the dark. See to your important affairs, sonny, don't worry about me, I can take care of myself."
The tears in his eyes as de Tomas suspended the cross about the aged mother's neck were genuine.
Spears turned to his secretary and whispered, "They get that thing just for having kids! Not for bearing sons who've died in combat or done anything really significant, just for bearing children! Can you believe it? I bet the dumb bitches have got to be loyal party members before they qualify, though. Hamadryad's halitosis, this bastard's got every angle figured out!"
There were also presentations for achievement in sports, science, and culture. To the youth of Kingdom, de Tomas encouraged physical fitness and sports competition, and there was a medal for young men and women who had passed a rigorous physical fitness test that included running, swimming, obstacle courses, and marksmanship. In presenting those awards, de Tomas had said:
"The future of our world depends on the young, those who will replace us and who will create the children who will carry on, in their turn, the great work I have begun. The young must be strong in spirit and body to attain their goals. They must be hard, physically and mentally, for life is a constant struggle, and only those tested in strength and hardness will endure in its great competition."
The medal for achievement in culture went to an operatic impresario named Itzahk Rivera. De Tomas considered music a vital adjunct to his socialist agenda. Music was the emotional glue that bound his followers together. Aside from military marches and soldier songs essential to the esprit of the army, he encouraged "serious" music for the morale of the citizenry of Kingdom. He rejected traditionalists such as Bach, "Sickeningly obsequious!"; Handel, "Badly in need of an enema!"; Vivaldi, "Master of repetition!"; the Haydn brothers, "About as exciting as clockwork!"; Mozart, "Effeminate little snob!"; Beethoven, "Homoerotic capitalist!"; Wagner, "More constipated than Handel!"; and Ravel, "As soporific and exciting as malaria!" Modern composers such as Hock Vinces's nuevo rhythm and blues and Kwame O'Leary's neoprogressive jazz he characterized as "Paleolithic syncopates." Rivera was recognized that day for his revival of the works of the obscure twentieth century German composer Hans Pfitzner, particularly his staging of Pfitzner's opera, Palestrina, which had always enthralled de Tomas with what he saw as its "unrelenting and passionate sincerity."
To de Tomas, Pfitzner's music was particularly compatible with the SPK's political philosophy because it represented the "stern ethos of conquest." The music critic who had earlier called the performance "sublimely silly" and "without a moment of musical epiphany," disappeared the following day and was never heard from again. Subsequently, Rivera's presentations of Pfitzner's music enjoyed laudatory critical reviews.
The prize for literature, on which subject de Tomas considered himself an expert, went to a retired librarian named Paoli St. Vincent Rhode, who'd taken up writing children's literature late in life. His books consisted of tales about young boys and girls who sacrificed themselves for family and community. Upon seizing power, de Tomas had ordered the destruction of all books he considered dangerous to good order and discipline, particularly antiwar novels such as the classics Knives in the Night and The Soldier's Prize. Copies of the proscribed volumes remained intact in his own private library, of course.
The Staff Judge Advocate stood before the men of the 2nd Regiment's Reconnaissance Company, formerly called the Burning Bush and said, "Raise your right hands and repeat after me: ‘I—state your name and rank—swear to you, Dominic de Tomas, as Leader of my government—’"
"Wait!" Stormleader Mugabe shouted. "You! Second man on the left, third rank! Fall out!"
The legal officer glanced apprehensively at Mugabe. "His lips were not moving!" Mugabe roared. The soldier stepped from the ranks and came to attention in front of Mugabe. "Why were you not reciting the oath?" the stormleader demanded.
"Sir! I am a Quaker and we do not believe in the taking of oaths!"
"Well, then, how did you manage to take your original oath, the one you swore when you enlisted in the army?"
"Sir! I did not move my lips then either!"
Mugabe drew his sidearm in one fluid motion and ventilated the young man's head. Blood, brains, fragments of bone, and hair sprayed all over the men in the first rank, but they stood fast. The young man's body stood upright for a few seconds before collapsing.
"Please proceed." Mugabe nodded at the SJA.
The SJA swallowed and finished the oath. Everyone's lips moved smartly, whether they actually pronounced the words or not. "Captain, you may dismiss the formation, and have the men come up here and sign their oaths—" The legal officer's voice broke on the last words. All he wanted to do was get away from the Special Group detachment and the madman who was its leader and return to churning out courtsmartial, nonjudicial punishments, and wills and codicils for indigent soldiers.
Standing in the second rank, a glob of the dead man's brains on his sleeve, Staff Sergeant—formerly Senior Sword—Raipur, waited for his company commander to dismiss him. Once the command was given and he'd signed his oath, he headed for his vehicle, to wash up. He looked at his timepiece. He had forty-five minutes before meeting with his company commander, Captain Sepp Dieter. The battalion had been operating in the N'ra Range for a week, searching for demons, and it was only the night before that Raipur's platoon had come back into the base camp for the oath-taking ceremony. They were scheduled to return to the field after refitting and resupplying. Raipur wanted to see the captain before they left.
Lieutenant Ben Loman caught Raipur's eye as he walked toward the company commander's tent. If looks could kill, Raipur thought, but the lieutenant had nothing to fear, he had no
intention of reporting him for war crimes. Carefully, he straightened his uniform before ducking under the flap into the captain's tent.
Captain Dieter, a heavyset older man, sat at a field desk, writing. He was still livid over the execution, and preparing a message of protest to battalion, not that it would do any good; it might just put the finishing touch to his career. He looked up. Raipur advanced to within three paces of the CO's desk, came to attention and saluted. "Senior—er, I mean Staff Sergeant Raipur has the first sergeant's permission to speak to the company commander."
"At ease, Sword." Dieter shook his head. "Sword, these new ranks'll take some getting used to." He grinned. "You wanted to see me? Well, I wanted to see you. You first; your shekel."
"Sir! I respectfully request a transfer to another platoon in the company."
Dieter nodded. "Yes. I understand. Well, Lieutenant Ben Loman—ah-ha, got it right that time!—has already asked me to transfer you to another platoon. I asked him why, and he said you were not aggressive enough in battle, Sergeant. Care to tell me why?"
Raipur hesitated briefly. "Well, we don't see eye-to-eye on some important things, sir. I just think it would be better for the company if I was in a different platoon."
"The other platoons all have their senior sergeants, and the platoon commanders are quite satisfied with them." He thought for a moment. "Maybe I could use you in the company CP."
"That would be fine, sir."
Dieter was silent a moment. "Sword, do you want to tell me why you really want out of your platoon?"
"I just don't get along with Lieutenant Ben Loman, sir." Technically that was true enough. The sergeant balked at murdering innocent civilians, while the lieutenant didn't.
"All right, I'll consider yours and the lieutenant's request. But understand this: we are in the field, maneuvering against the enemy. I am not going to make any personnel changes in the platoons because you two can't ‘get along.’ Once we're back in garrison, I'll talk to you two about it again."
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