“Colonel Kai almost always sounds like that. I don’t keep either him or Morgan around for their acting ability,” Drakon replied. “To those citizens, as scared and shook-up as they are, it probably sounded real enough. We just bought you some good publicity with the citizens in that valley. Make sure you don’t waste it.”
Sub-CEO Kamara nodded at Drakon, her expression thoughtful, then gradually acquired a gleeful look as she took in all the results of the operation. “That was the last pocket of resistance in the three valleys. This guts the loyalists. We’ve got their most important valleys, all of the support infrastructure in them, and we’ve wiped out their leadership. Their remaining forces can’t hold out now. We’ve already heard from the commanders in two of the areas still held by the loyalists, asking for terms of surrender.”
“Good.” He couldn’t feel too elated at the outcome. The casualty lists were coming in. Not too many dead and wounded for such an operation. But still some.
Kamara was happily talking to the other members of the Interim Congress of Free Taroa. Drakon gazed at the display, where the patches of loyalist-controlled territory had shrunk dramatically. Outside, the sun glowed dimly through the clouds of volcanic dust drifting across the sky.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT only took a week for the remaining loyalist opposition to crumble. At the end of that time, with the threat of Drakon’s ground forces and warships looming over them, and with the Workers Universal making a series of ill-considered threats and a suicide bombing that angered rather than intimidated the WU’s opponents, the last valleys controlled by the loyalists bowed to the control of the Free Taroans.
Sub-CEO Kamara promptly turned around the surrendered loyalist soldiers, combined them with her own forces, and charged into the areas still held by the Workers Universal. Drakon kept his own forces out of it as the Free Taroan soldiers, including those who had been recently fighting the Free Taroans, rampaged into the WU-controlled areas.
“We should be playing a part in this,” Morgan grumbled.
“I don’t want any part in it,” Drakon replied sourly. “For people who were upset about atrocities, they seem way too eager to wipe out anything and anybody with any taint of Workers Universal.”
“We could separate them,” Malin suggested. “Keep the deaths down by stopping the fighting.”
“They’d just finish the job when we left,” Drakon said. “Let them do it. Let them do it, then wake up in the morning and realize what they’ve done. Maybe in the long run, that’ll save some lives.”
“Do we have any word from the congress yet?” Malin asked.
“No. The interim congress is waiting until the WU is finished. I’ll talk to them tomorrow, tell them what we want, then we can get the hell out here.” Taroa was beautiful, but his thoughts of it were tainted by the toll of the civil war.
“General,” Malin said, “we avoided this kind of thing at Midway. Because of how you and President Iceni handled things.”
“Or because we had a lot more weapons and nobody would mess with General Drakon,” Morgan said sarcastically. “Let’s just tell these FreeTas what we want and tell them to deliver. If they’re not grateful enough for our help, we can dump a load of hurt on their heads.”
“They’ll know they can’t just blow us off,” Drakon said. “They need us, our goodwill, because we’re always going to be the star next door, and that’s the other thing that they’ll realize when they wake up in the morning.”
“I love it when you’re domineering,” Morgan said, then laughed when he gave her a disapproving look. “I get what’s going on. We own these guys even though the FreeTas get to keep pretending they’re all independent and strong. And we own those orbiting dockyards, which I bet is the third thing the FreeTas are going to be waking up to. Nice job, General.”
Malin didn’t offer any rejoinder this time, instead watching Morgan with the intentness of a man trying to defuse an explosive.
* * *
“IT’S impossible to express our gratitude,” another member of the interim congress intoned. “Now that Taroa is once more reunited, and free, we will never forget the aid that Midway offered to help bring that about.”
Remembering came cheap, of course, and no one had yet suggested the idea of actual, tangible repayment. Drakon nodded, offering the members of the congress a small smile. “President Iceni and I were happy to assist. We want trade to get going again. Your ships will be welcome at Midway, and we won’t use our warships to hinder any ships trying to get to you through our star system.”
A few members of the congress got that, realizing that the statement implied that such traffic could be hindered at any time that Midway felt like it. Traffic could still arrive using Taroa’s other jump points, but such travel would be much more difficult than for anyone using the speed and ease of Midway’s hypernet gate.
One of the congress members gave Drakon a skeptical look. “What will be happening to the charges for use of the hypernet gate by merchant traffic? Now that your rates are no longer regulated by the Syndicate government?”
He wouldn’t have known the answer to that except that Iceni had made a point of telling him before they left. “The rates are going to be reduced. It’s not that we don’t need money, but we won’t be sending any of that on to Prime anymore. We can charge merchants using the gate less and still retain more to help pay for establishing Midway as a strong, independent star system.”
“Why not charge even less and retain less?” someone challenged him.
Drakon couldn’t help a narrow-eyed look at the person who had spoken. “You think you’re getting a bad deal? I haven’t heard anyone say anything yet about the soldiers we lost helping you gain control of your planet and star system.”
The majority managed to look guilty though also defensive.
“Our military forces don’t come free, and they’re not cheap,” Drakon continued. “I need enough revenue to cover pay, maintenance, operations, and a lot of other things. Prime isn’t going to be defending Midway anymore. It won’t be defending Taroa, either. You help us pay for defense, and we’ll help defend you. Balk at that, and we may not have enough forces to spare when the Syndicate government shows up here again.”
He had fallen back into CEO speaking habits without even thinking, talking as someone whose words were not to be debated or questioned. And the Free Taroans, with a lifetime of conditioning to fear and obey, sat straighter as their smiles faded.
Colonel Malin stepped forward slightly, drawing everyone’s attention, sounding reasonable as well as firm. “As General Drakon said, we can no longer depend on Prime to pay for our defense. Instead, Prime has become a threat. We also have to deal with the enigmas. Yes, we are officially admitting that the enigmas exist and pose a threat to humanity. If they are to reach Taroa, they have to come from Pele, and through Midway. We must pay for the mobile forces to defend all of the star systems in this region out of our own pockets. Those mobile forces will be available to help defend you as well if we can reach the necessary agreements.”
“Mobile forces aren’t cheap,” Sub-CEO Kamara agreed. “And we have none,” she added for the benefit of the rest of the congress. “We’ve had a graphic demonstration of what the mobile forces under Midway’s control can do to help us. I think it would not be wise to balk at paying less than we have in the past for use of Midway’s hypernet gate when we are also gaining potential defenders as a result.”
“Speaking of defense,” another representative said, “we’ll be happy to accept control of the dockyards from you as soon as we can lift soldiers up there.”
“The dockyards?” Drakon asked.
A pause followed, then the representative spoke more cautiously. “Yes. The primary orbiting dockyards. They belong to us.”
“We took them from the Syndicate government,” Drakon replied. “They were never under control of the Free Taroans.”
Kamara was watching him, her eyes hard. “You’re goi
ng to keep them.”
“We have every right to keep them,” Drakon pointed out.
A woman representative burst out loudly. “You won’t be able to sustain that facility without support from this planet!”
“You’re not threatening me, are you?” Drakon asked. “What happened to ‘thank you for the victory that gave us this planet mostly intact’? What happened to your gratitude? We’re not taking anything that you ever possessed. If you want to talk about joint-use agreements, I’m sure we can come up with something, but control of those docks will remain in our hands.”
“Threats would be meaningless,” Kamara said, as much to the other representatives as in reply to Drakon. She leaned forward, hands clasped on the table, her eyes fixed on his. “We know that there’s a partially completed battleship in the main construction dock. I assume you intend keeping that as well.”
Drakon nodded. “There’s a lot of work yet to be done before it can even leave the dock, but once the battleship is finished, it will be an important part of the defenses for our star system. And yours, should you choose to work with us.”
“Choose?” someone asked scornfully. “We have no choices here.”
“Yes, we do,” Kamara corrected. “We had no choices before because all we could do was hang on against the Syndicate forces and the Workers United. Now we can decide how to deal with control of this planet, and the control of the star system that comes with that. The orbiting docks are critical, but we can’t take them by force, not when Midway’s ground forces and mobile forces protect that facility.”
“We give in to blackmail?” the first man cried.
“We deal with reality.”
No one replied to that for a while. Drakon waited, impressed by how well Kamara was herding the other representatives into handling the situation. She might end up in control of this star system on her own.
“There are strong grounds for negotiating the status of the orbiting docks,” another woman finally said, trying to look bold as her gaze flicked nervously toward Drakon. “Any forces from Midway that remain here to protect those docks will also, of necessity, protect us. Unfortunately, we are an interim government. We need to establish the exact form of our government, win the approval of the citizens for that, then hold elections for all offices. But it will be hard to gain the people’s acceptance for the loss of the partially completed battleship.”
“If I may suggest,” Malin said, sounding somehow even more reasonable than before, “there is no certain time for such a government to be established, while the dangers that face us all exist now, and the need to keep commerce active and revitalized in this region is also a current requirement. You might consider granting a group of trusted citizens such as yourselves the power to reach temporary agreements on matters such as trade and mutual defense, those agreements to be subject to eventual ratification by whichever government is finally established. That would ensure that the government you establish has the final word but also enable us all to pursue actions necessary to the good of the citizens in the meantime.”
The congress members looked interested and impressed by Malin’s words. “But, the battleship . . .” one pressed.
“If the battleship were on the table,” Malin said, “then agreeing to its loss might create problems for your government. But as General Drakon pointed out, our forces took that battleship from the Syndicate government. It was ours before we ever spoke with the Free Taroans, so you’re not giving up anything.”
Kamara smiled coldly. “We will discuss this, but perhaps we can agree that, officially, the battleship was never a Free Taroan asset. Our government doesn’t need that kind of problem on top of everything else we have to deal with. Unofficially, though, the representatives of Free Taroa will expect some concessions for that.”
“Unofficially,” Malin replied, “we can discuss that.”
“May we send representatives back with you?” another representative asked. “To discuss these issues directly with President Iceni?”
“That’s fine with me,” Drakon said, wondering if they thought that Iceni would be any more willing than he to give away even a partially completed battleship hull. “We have some representatives with us from President Iceni who can discuss the trade agreements, and a proposed agreement on defense for you to look at. Colonel Malin will be your point of contact on that.” The last thing that he wanted to do was get personally bogged down negotiating trade agreements and parsing which comma went where.
“General,” another member of the interim congress began, smiling in the ingratiating manner that labeled him a trained executive. “Our own soldiers are limited in number, and we do face some security issues. You’re already keeping some ground forces on the orbiting docks. Perhaps if some more of your ground forces remained on the surface on a purely temporary basis—”
Frowns were already breaking out on many other faces as Drakon interrupted the speaker. “No. All my forces except those providing security on the orbital docks are going back to Midway. That was the agreement.” He made it sound like a great virtue, to be abiding by what he had said he would do, when in fact Drakon simply didn’t want his soldiers tied down in garrison duty in former WU-dominated areas. He knew without asking that such places were where the Free Taroans would want to employ soldiers from another star system. We’ve got what we want, and we’ve done as much dirty work as we’re going to do in this star system.
He managed to keep from going CEO on them again until the discussion ended, then Drakon left with a feeling of great relief.
He paused on the way out, ensuring that his security equipment was blocking any attempt at surveillance. “Good job jumping in there, Bran.”
Malin shrugged. “In matters like mutual defense and trade, our self-interest coincides with that of the Free Taroans. I didn’t want them short-circuiting the possibility of agreements with their clumsy attempts to get something for nothing.”
“Yeah. A few times in there I was really missing being a Syndicate CEO. I hope they get their acts together before this free star system goes completely down the tubes.” Drakon checked his security readouts again, but they were still secure. Even though the Free Taroans had piously announced that they would never allow the sort of routine surveillance that had characterized Syndicate rule, he suspected that they would bend those beliefs just as soon as they thought it necessary. “How is the recruiting of information sources and active agents going?”
“We’ll have a number in place here before we leave,” Malin promised. “That’s another advantage for us in increasing trade. The more merchant ships traveling from Taroa to Midway, the more opportunity our agents here will have to pass us information covertly, and the more ships going from Midway to Taroa, the more chances we have to send covert instructions to our agents here.”
“Funny how that works out. Judging from what we dealt with in there, we’re going to need the active agents getting to work right off the bat. We need them to push, cajole, bribe, convince, blackmail, or whatever works to get a government working here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And not just any government,” Drakon said. “It has to be strong enough to maintain control of this planet and star system, stable enough to hold together over time, and friendly enough to work with us. Strong enough, stable enough, and friendly enough. We need all three, and I’m sure President Iceni won’t balk at whatever we need to spend to get that.” That was something else the hypernet gate fees would be spent on, but there hadn’t been any sense in bringing that up during the meeting with the congress. “Did you see how Sub-CEO Kamara was dominating the others?”
Malin nodded soberly. “Yes, sir. We want her working with us.”
“Morgan would recommend getting her out of the way if she didn’t play ball.”
“Morgan would be mistaken,” Malin insisted. “Someone like Kamara could make all the difference in the formation of a strong, stable government here. I didn’t see any other players in th
ere with her level of authority, and to the citizens here, she is the hero who defeated the loyalists. Get rid of Kamara, and there’s no one to step into the void. The Free Taroans want a government with elections from top to bottom, General. They might just elect Kamara on their own if she’s around to be a candidate.”
“If they do that, and if Kamara proves to be what we need, then fine. If the Taroans work out an elected government, we might learn a few things from them. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll still learn a few things and have a cautionary example for anyone pushing for that kind of thing in our star system.” Drakon studied Malin. “Speaking of which, you seem to have given that a lot of thought, Colonel Malin. And you seem to know a lot more about different forms of government than the Syndicate liked people knowing.”
Malin nodded with a serious expression. “Everyone requires a hobby, General.”
An evasive answer, one that revealed nothing. But clearly Malin wasn’t going to say more unless pressed hard, and Drakon couldn’t believe that Malin would betray him. “You picked a strange hobby. And a dangerous one. Just get enough agents in our pay on this planet, and get those agents working to make happen what we want to happen.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be leaving here within the hour. There’s some work in that respect that needs to be personally carried out in another city.” Malin saluted and rushed off. Drakon had no doubt that by the time they left this star system, there would be a widespread and effective system of covert agents working to accomplish his and Iceni’s goals.
It should have pleased him. Everything was working out. But Drakon felt dissatisfied. The Free Taroans had been extremely aggravating, outwardly thankful and yet carefully avoiding actually offering anything in exchange for the aid they had received. They had even balked at the simple truth that the orbital docks, and the battleship being constructed there, were now the property of those who had taken them from the Syndicate government. Yet the Free Taroans had also been so enthusiastic and idealistic. They were fools, doomed to disappointment when their dreams collided with reality, but . . . it would be nice to have something to be enthusiastic about. It would be nice to have something to believe in besides maintaining power, keeping his skin in one piece, and foiling his enemies. How long had it been since he had felt either enthusiasm or idealism?
The Lost Stars: Tarnished Knight Page 35