“And if it is a negative outcome,” Treasury Secretary Erdene observed sardonically, “it is negative for us, not for them.”
“I gave you all the list of trinkets,” Chuluunbold said. “I didn’t notice any of you were very enthused about getting into a war for a few university libraries, personal bribes,…” The other members of the Committee laughed. “I believe we must politely decline to advance on the Union request. However, I welcome over the next few days your considered opinions. Perhaps we can string them along for various goodies while claiming a delay in training and equipping an adequate force. The claimed delays can be extended until the foreigners forget what they wanted from us, or change their minds, or one of their other ministries bribes us to do the opposite..”
President Altantsetseg held up her hands. “Wisely and succinctly said, I hope. There are written reports, Classification Platinum Star, to be read only in this suite. However, we have ten other major items on our agenda, so I propose…”
SPECIAL EDUCATION RESEARCH FACILITY
SZECHUAN SCIENTIFIC KINGDOM
2174 MAY 6 9:00 MORNING HOURS
“Next on the Agenda are the Europe-USA truce negotiations. Yao Kang, it was your Ministry whose representative attended the last session. Where are we now?” Senior Minister Fan Long looked around his inner cabinet at his Minister of State.
“The situation is confusing,” Yao answered. “I can report that once again we attempted to open a back channel contact with the Americans, and once again we were turned down. A review of the historic record suggests that the Americans are much more polite that they were, a century ago, but the answer is still negative. They really do not want to talk with anyone. We all watched the official tape of the meeting. I am baffled by the new European delegate. The FEU detests biosculpt. Their allies with starships detest biosculpt. Also, the images are adequately clear. The Ministry of Applied Science says no one has ever seen anything that looks like those new FEU starships.”
“Our Inner Mongolian friends?” Fan asked.
“Have no such ships,” Yao said. “They do, however, have the FEU at their shoulders, pressing them to stage many border incidents with the Americans. Curiously, they seem to find perpetual difficulties in doing anything of the sort, at least without great amounts of European aid. The Pekingese are apparently being much more cooperative with the FEU. Incidentally, the Inner Mongolian cabinet has somehow managed to see the same videos, and is firmly convinced that the FEU new delegate is not a biosculpt but another starfaring species from another galaxy.”
“The Ministry of Astronomy and Astronautics,” interrupted Senior Minister Tai, “has found no errors in their cabinet’s logic, except you would think that the Europeans might have told us something.”
“At least we now have our own Cody screens,” Fan said, “and our own fission suppressors, those two former monopolies of the great powers. We need not worry if someone tries to bomb us or drop rocks on us.”
“Let us be grateful to our ancestors,” Senior Minister Tai said, “who realized that the Indian IITs, American-style education, and American-style academic ethics were the correct solution, and invested so heavily in education, research, and firing squads for dishonest academicians. As a result of that wisdom, we now are among the wealthier nations in the world and can afford these things. However, we do have other things to discuss, so perhaps we must wait to see if the Ministry of State can pry any answers out of the FEU without breaking the truce rules.”
SUPREME HEADQUARTER CHAMBER
HQ, PLA GENERAL STAFF
PEKING, CHINA
0630 CHINA TIME (CT) 8 MAY 2174
Behind a retracting drawbridge, massive steel doors rolled quietly shut. The five men and two women who constituted the core leadership of the People's Republic looked grimly at each other across a flat-black oval table. Marshal Tsien, Commander of the People's Liberation Army and its naval and aerospace squadrons, wore a tight smile. Matters had been proceeding well for the past year. Why did that troublemaker Wu have to raise questions? Internal Security was her responsibility. If there had been security failures, it was her Ministry's fault, and hence her fault. If there had been serious failures she should perform public self-criticism and be elevated to a position closer to the peasants and workers, say, cleaning stalls on a pig farm.
Minister of Heavy Industry Fang folded his hands. In the end, he commanded the largest share of the resources, the workers, the factories, the scientific institutes...and he could reasonably say that this issue was outside his responsibility and competence. The Chinese people could rely on him to supply the people's resources to the limit of the ability of every worker, but the disposal of those resources for Party and State Security was not his responsibility. Deferring to the assembled wisdom meant that no matter which faction or clique came out on top, he could say that he had supported them. He hoped Wu would not insist on taking this issue to the entire PolitBuro, where matters might be more complex.
Party Administrative Secretary Ting would have nodded in complete assent, had he the least glimmer of what passed through Fang's thoughts. It was Ting's Party bureaucracy that provided the backbone of the state, performed the central economic planning that was returning China to great-power status, and transmitted through the cadre to every worker and peasant the orders without which China could not possibly operate. The issues in Wu's report were very troubling, because they presented a series of choices, each of which potentially endangered China itself.
Party Secretary Liu stared not at his fellows, but down into the holomap that filled the table's innards. The Party Central Committee looked down from above through a transparent tabletop at a proper map of all China, from a point of view that once would have been ascribed only to the Gods. Of course, under the inspiration of Stalin-Mao-Fu thought, one did not suppose that there were Gods. Where there should have appeared a single nation, borders framed in glorious red, was instead a patchwork quilt, the true People's Republic being confined to Peking, Tianjin, environs, and the parts of Manchuria not presently under American occupation. His predecessors, two centuries ago, would have been horrified. Of course, he allowed, it was some of them who had created the situation in which the Center of All the Universe now found itself. He would be happy to see that glory restored, at least so long as the restoration did not in the least way interfere with the very considerable perquisites enjoyed by ranking members of the Party.
Marshal Tsang's glance was non-committal. She was still the most junior of the seven members of the Central Committee, owing her presence to the collection of old men -- her more senior colleagues in the People's Army -- who lacked adequate revolutionary solidarity to trust each other with this position. The second military seat on the Central Committee had fallen to her seemingly by default, though no one could rationally propose that the Planning Directorate should not be represented on the Central Committee. It was not her fault that her colleagues all viewed her as an indispensable technician and advisor, without considering why she was so willing to pick up whatever work was not being done and see that it got done in a competent manner.
Party Chairman Fu cupped his hands, basilisk eyes staring beadily at his colleagues. Their aides were locked outside. The seven of them were responsible for the situation, so they would make the necessary decisions and inform the party cadres as to where they would spontaneously choose to lead the people. Tsien's excellent plan for rectifying the borders of the Motherland had been underway since he had become chairman; Fu would not have it said the matters had not done well under his inspired leadership. He did, however, hope that Marshal Wu would not go on too long. He would much rather have a pleasant breakfast than such cold food as the staff had arranged. Wu was a very irritating woman. If she became irritating enough some task more suited to her talents would need to be identified, say, auditing financial reports of Army divisional thespian companies.
Marshal Wu beamed happily from under her peasant jacket and cap. She had requeste
d a meeting, to which her colleagues had been only too happy to agree. At least, those of her colleagues who were sharpening the axe for her neck were all too happy to agree, while the remainder of the Central Committee was prepared to be accommodating to whichever faction appeared to have the upper hand. Fortunately, in addition to her rank in the People's Army she was also Minister of Internal Security, and knew exactly where each of the skeletons was buried.
Chairman Fu cleared his throat. "As the chamber is now sealed, we have all had ample time to read Marshal Wu's excellent and detailed report, and the press of our other responsibilities weighs heavily, we shall begin. I remind you all that the Ministry of Internal Security has estimated the longest time this Committee may safely meet without the meeting raising the suspicions of the counter-revolutionaries, and trust that we shall conform to that limit. As the report is Marshal Wu's, she may begin."
"Comrades of the Central Committee! Marshal Tsien's most excellent plans for destroying the American Imperialists have been in process for the past decade. Chairman Fu's recent and successful trip to the decadent lands of the Franco-German Imperialists and their English running-dog allies who launched against us the plutocratic Opium Wars put into place the last major keystone of that plan." She paused very slightly, reminding herself that some Central Committee members disgracefully failed to lace their discourse with appropriate invective vilifying the People's depravedly subhuman enemies. "Those plans noted a perpetual random likelihood that the American reactionaries would detect our plans and take counteraction. So far as we can determine, we have succeeded in eliminating Imperialist spies within the motherland before they could ferret out our secrets. However, in the active zone there are American forces that cannot be eliminated without revealing that which we wish to hide. Despite Marshal Tsien's most brilliant precautions, it has always appeared possible that the Americans might get wind of our preparations. We all try our best to prevent this, but it appears that our luck is coming to an end, as explained in my report. I should perhaps await questions."
Fu allowed himself to begin. "A year ago, there had been great concern that the new American border electronics would overcome our countermeasures. After all, there had been a period of many decades during which their border protections did not change substantially, so that when Tsien advanced his plans it seemed highly likely that everything could be in place without the Americans being one bit the wiser. When they did improve their defenses, we were very worried--apparently without need. What has now happened? I have not heard of further upgrades of their security systems."
"Honored Chairman, the changes are somewhat more subtle. Beginning several months ago it became apparent that the Americans had become significantly more aggressive in putting out bad-weather patrols, so that our efforts regularly needed to abort. Very careful analysis by several astute junior members of Marshal Tsien's staff in response to his inspired questioning showed a peculiarity, namely that this was not just an increased state of alert on their part along the entire border. The American patrols only went to the right places at the right times to create difficulties, implying they knew where we were," Wu answered.
"So why have you not caught the responsible spies?" Tsien grumbled. Wu's responsive smile was slightly disconcerting, far too much like a cat gazing at the mouse trapped between its paws.
"Comrade Marshal Tsien is exactly on point. It is as though there were yet more imperialist spies in our midst, more jackals of the corrupt Morbius and his fascist whore, Kapitan Mors. However, when this plan was launched, certain security precautions were taken, namely that no one -- except you, Comrade Chairman, and you, Comrade Marshal -- knew more than a few components of the plan. It was totally compartmentalized. Every single overground aspect of the border plan is being disrupted. A spy ring large enough to accomplish this feat is difficult to imagine. There are two obvious alternatives. The absurd alternative is that a single spy has done this, which requires that the spy sits in this chamber." Tsien stiffened. "I of course note this absurd alternative only so that no one can say that my Ministry has not been thorough. There is also the rational alternative."
"I am delighted to hear that we are not going to need a purge," Chairman Fu announced, not quite light-heartedly, "particularly when I might be asked to purge myself." He laughed at his own joke, the others following after the slightest hesitation.
"The reasonable alternative is that we were correct a year ago," Wu announced. "The new American methods are sensitive enough to create technical challenges we cannot readily overcome. However, the American barbarians are so decadent and lazy that it took them most of a year to notice what their methods were telling them. Now someone on their side has noticed, someone who is observant and thorough, but remarkably unsubtle. Fortunately, Chairman Fu, your brilliant leadership a decade ago anticipated this contingency."
Fu smiled at the compliment. Five heads shook in agreement with Wu's words. Wu suspected that precisely one of her colleagues actually knew what she meant, and Tsang was unlikely to speak if it could be helped.
"You realized," Wu continued, "Comrade Chairman, that despite our best efforts the Americans had a fair chance of noting what we were doing. At every step of Marshal Tsien's plan, there was always a choice between pre-positioning more forces, so that our initial blows would drive harder stakes to their hearts, and moving to the next phase with forces on hand while we had some control of the time table." Marshal Tsien's intake of breath was not quite audible. He must finally, she noted, have recognized the choices. "There is an increasing likelihood that if we wait they will use our prepositioning efforts to reveal what we have already prepositioned. Our alternative is to strike now. I do not propose to recommend between these choices. It is this committee's prerogative to decide whether or when we should advance. I believe Comrade Marshal Tsang has updated the current range of options, should we choose to hear them."
"Indeed," Fu said, "I must compliment Comrade Marshal Wu on her perspicacity. When I visited the Anglo-Franco-German pigs in their own sty, I had the opportunity to speak privately with the commander of their AeroSpace squadrons. In accord with this Committee's directives, I have cultivated this person as an old friend, an old friend whose throat at a more auspicious moment I look forward to slitting. In the meantime, this Bernard Rohan has made to us a most interesting offer, whose revelation now appears most highly appropriate. In short, he proposed to me..."
Chapter 11
"Boys are taught to fight fair. Boys are taught to let their opponents stand back up. Boys are taught not to kick their man while he is down. Boys are not taught that the morals of the tin-hat morons who died at Crecy, all full with honor, duty, and glory, are the morals of retardate losers. Boys are social cripples. A MinuteGirl knows that the best chance to give your enemy is none at all. A MinuteGirl takes her man from behind, knocks him down, and kicks him repeatedly in the head with her boot. Heel stomps against the neck are good, too. A MinuteGirl knows the best way to a man's heart. It's under the sternum, cutting up with eleven inches of sharpened steel."
...Kapitan Mors ["Captain Death"] Draft Notes, MinuteGirlManual, ca. 2040.
THE HOUSE OF LOST DREAMS
PAXTON, MASSACHUSETTS
May 9, 2174, 11:15 AM EST
Sandra stared at her message from Morbius: "You will take lunch and, if it appears appropriate, supper with Copperwright, the Collector Supreme, and the Lord of the Hexagon. You will discuss with them certain strategic issues that they will choose to raise. I imagine that their choice of issues will meet with your approval. Kindly recall that Gustaphson is both calendrically and physically the oldest person in the United States, by a substantial margin. He may tire a bit in long conversations."
She told herself that Morbius had a long record of excellent judgement. Perhaps he had decided that dealing with strange people now would be excellent practice for her in later life. Besides, being with the Hexagon Lord was certainly not unpleasant, even if she never had the opportunity to
do more than look and talk. The Collector Supreme was a nice, very old man with a wry sense of humor. And he remembered as yesterday historical events from far before the Incursion. Cheryl Copperwright had certainly asked a series of interesting questions. Some were challenging. Some were schoolkid exercises -- until Cheryl specified why the copybook answer was obviously wrong and any schoolkid should have figured it out. She'd managed one good shot in return: "What else is hidden in the Azores Accords, and who hid it there?"
Barbara's answer went `Hidden? There's no secret text. It's all there for every American to read'. Barbara had not needed to stress the 'every' and the 'read'. Not to Sandra, anyhow. Sandra wondered if Grant would have noticed Barbara's implicit order.
Awaiting her, in the suite Gustaphson's houseservile had designated, was indeed a good dress uniform, the loosecut, flowing version that was more comfortable for serious work, Phoenix shawl and matching hideout knives and all, not to mention a proper combat load for her pistol. Her servot had packed other clothing for her: overnight kit and robe, bathing costume, and a large tabletcomp. Her power armor had conversed with Gustaphson's houseservile, which was fully prepared to refresh the armor up to ready, combat, or high-intensity combat stores levels. She reminded herself not to grate her teeth just because she was impatient with jokes by three friends.
She found Gustaphson in a hall ("West Wing Great Room", his houseservile whispered through her tabletcomp) supervising the final buffet preparation. "Nothing complicated," he announced. "I'm partial to Massachusetts fruit wines, but my other guests always want their wits clear. The wall screen has the sims you mentioned on you walk, Incursion 7 -- actually beta version of 8 -- executed with realistic assessments of FEU and allied strategic objectives. I was right when I told Arthur--I did have them right where they belonged."
Minutegirls Page 16