by David Drake
Windsor opened the meeting.
“Thank you for coming. I know how busy you’ve been since the assassination attempt. I’d especially like to praise Eitor Senda for a smooth transition of power under trying circumstances and General Merikur for the military’s heroic efforts, including his own. It gives me great pleasure to announce that, along with a detailed report of what’s happened here, I’ve sent Pact Command my recommendation that General Merikur receive the Medal of Valor.”
Every decade or so, someone among the billion-plus members of Pact Military forces received that medal. Usually post-humously. Merikur blushed at the general applause and mumbled something about his people. His comments were generally ignored; cluster commanders who behaved like line marines were something special, it seemed.
“All right,” Windsor said as the applause died down, “we have a great deal to discuss. If successful, the attack would have eliminated Governor Trent, myself, and all my senior staff. It’s likely that a good deal of time would have elapsed before another governor arrived. During that time, the cluster would be highly vulnerable, both to internal and external opportunists.
Everyone nodded. Windsor was right—and he was in charge. He sipped water before going on, “That much is fairly obvious. What’s not so obvious is that even if the plan failed, it would still succeed in another way.”
He glanced at each of his subordinates in turn. “I refer, of course, to the exclusive use of alien assassins. Its purpose was to feed existing racism—while also acting to discredit me. Those who wish to may now conclude that I was not only wrong to advocate human-alien equality—but criminally stupid as well. Their motto will be that the only good alien is a dead alien.”
“Or one who is working in a mine,” Senda added calmly.
“Exactly,” Windsor agreed, steepling his fingers. “However, there are some bright spots in all this darkness. For one thing, the loyalty of the Governor’s Hundred does much to prove that some aliens can be trusted, not to mention Eitor’s willingness to sacrifice himself for me.
“By the way, Eitor, next time you save my life, try to do it a little less enthusiastically.” Windsor’s hand went up to the bandage on his forehead.
Senda grinned his upside down grin. “Well, Governor, as you humans would say, robust fecal matter.”
Windsor laughed. “Sometimes I think we’re a bad influence on you.” Turning to the others he said, “Ever since we landed, Eitor has been pouring over the cluster files. I’ve asked him to report on potential flash points. Eitor?”
“Thank you, Governor. As one would expect, Harmony Cluster has its share of problems. A major crop failure on Siskens II, a pirate raid on Asteroid 568BX, and the makings of a nice little civil insurrection on Little Mektor, just to mention a few. One way or another we will have to deal with all of them. But our most pressing problem by far is Teller.”
Getting up from his odd-looking Cernian chair, Senda aimed a small remote at a wall and pressed a button. There was the hum of a hidden motor; the gray curtain slid aside to reveal a large holotank.
“Although far from perfect, our intelligence on Teller is fairly accurate, and there’s little doubt that a major crisis is in the making.”
“Yes,” Windsor agreed. “And how we deal with the situation on Teller may very well determine the success or failure of this entire administration.”
Senda waited through the interruption with characteristic patience. Merikur knew the Cernian well enough by now to detect a trace of annoyance in the set of his shoulders and the look in his eyes. When Windsor was finished, the alien continued. “As some of you know, Teller is a mining planet in one of the cluster’s major systems.”
Senda pressed another button. A planet popped into existence in the middle of the holotank and started to slowly turn. There wasn’t anything especially remarkable about it: some good-sized mountain ranges, lots of cloud cover and one small ocean.
“The planet is closer to Cern normal than Earth normal, but is habitable by both races, and members of both species have lived on it for some time. Teller belongs to the Haiken Maru by right of occupation in accordance with Pact law.” The planet shimmered and disappeared, being replaced by a small city of pre-cast concrete buildings, shanties, and encroaching jungle.
“This is the planet’s largest town, a charming little place called ‘Port City.’ As we speak, it’s under virtual siege by the rebels. More on them in a moment.” The city vanished and a three-dimensional organization chart appeared to replace it. Merikur saw a vertical-looking structure headed by a general manager, a member of department heads, sector chiefs and other functionaries.
“Planetary government could better be described as ‘planetary management,’ and is exclusively comprised of Haiken Maru professionals from off planet. They run the planet to maximize profit and minimize expense. If they generate sufficient profit, they are promoted off planet. Otherwise they stay—or are sent to even worse posts. As a result, their policies have been less than enlightened.”
The holo shimmered and coalesced into a shot of ragged looking Cernians trudging towards the gaping mouth of a mine. In the background, a Haiken Maru overseer could be seen, repulsor rifle dangling from a sling, lounging against a small hut.
“Cernians and humans, whose grandparents came to the planet as contract labor, now work in a state of virtual slavery.”
“But slavery’s illegal,” Lieutenant Commander Moskone objected. “Surely Governor Trent would have done something.”
Senda blinked both eyes in a Cernian shrug. “You are correct, Commander, slavery is illegal. Note the qualifier ‘virtually.’ The workers must pay the Haiken Maru for their food, for their quarters, for their medical care, for . . . everything. If a worker was extremely frugal and extremely lucky, he or she might work their way out of debt in fifteen or twenty years. But how would they get off planet? The Haiken Maru controls everything, including the cost of transportation aboard their ships. Thus, the only option for someone who manages to pay off the debt is to work as a miner for the Haiken Maru—under the same conditions as before. And as for the former governor, his representative on Teller returned to Augustine some seven months ago for medical treatment. And was never replaced.”
“Which brings us to the rebels,” Tenly said impatiently. “Let’s get on with it.”
But Senda wouldn’t be hurried. “All in due time. First, it is necessary to understand why the Haiken Maru brought Cernians and humans to Teller in the first place. As I said earlier, the ancestors of both groups were originally brought to Teller as contract labor: the Cernians to work the mines and the humans to work the farms. And they weren’t chosen casually. The Haiken Maru puts considerable time and thought into the matter.” The holo changed to show shots of Cernia.
“Cernia has a very red sun, plus large areas of triple-canopy forest. As a result, members of my race cannot tolerate direct sunlight for extended periods of time. We evolved on the forest floor, developing our green skin color as protective coloration. Due to the low light levels found there, we also have excellent night vision. That, plus our short height and low incidence of claustrophobia accounts for our selection as miners.” The holo shimmered, giving way to shots of emaciated-looking humans tilling fields with hand tools.
“We Cernians are vegetarians, but since we cannot work in the open, the Haiken Maru brought in humans to grow our food. humans have always been good at agriculture and can tolerate a great deal of direct sunlight. During the early times, the humans were better paid and better treated than the Cernians, but that advantage has slowly slipped away. Today, farm humans are no better off than Cernian miners.
“Haiken Maru management regards both groups as inferior, claiming they have become so mutated and inbred that they are little better than animals.” He paused. “This claim is absurd. Both groups have more than adequately large gene pools.”
“Plus, there’s strong evidence that outside genes are sometimes added to the local pool
of both species,” Merikur put in dryly.
Senda’s lips turned downwards. “General Merikur is correct. There is evidence of traffic between the government of Cernia and the Cernian miners. There also seems to be considerable commerce between pirates and human farmers.”
“All of which brings us to the rebellion,” Tenly added impatiently.
“As you wish,” Senda replied. “Actually, the rebels are nothing new. For a long time, members of both races have escaped into the jungle. Although ‘escape’ doesn’t accurately describe the transition from one kind of hell to another.”
The holo changed to a point of view shot as the camera walked down a jungle trail. Vegetation pushed in from both sides, strange sounds came from all around, and the sun was a dim presence far above.
“The hostile environment is partly due to Teller’s ecosystem, which has its share of unfriendly animal and plant life. Far worse, however, are some off-world life forms imported by the Haiken Maru. This is a good example.”
The jungle trail dissolved into a shot of an innocent-looking, broad-leafed plant. “This is called ‘Nakada,’ which in the language of my people means ‘painful death.’ Brief contact with this plant makes us very ill and prolonged exposure is fatal. The Haiken Maru imported this plant from Cernia and used aerial seeding to spread it across the surface of Teller.”
The picture changed once more. This time it showed a large snake. “As those of you born and raised on Terra may already know, this is a fer-de-lance, a rather large and venomous reptile harmful to both races, but lethal to humans. These are examples only. The Haiken Maru has imported other hostile life forms as well. In spite of that, the rebels are not only surviving, they are by all accounts flourishing.”
Senda pushed a button. The holo disappeared and the gray curtain slid closed. “I mention this for three reasons. It tells you the Haiken Maru is ruthless. It tells you the rebels are tough. And it tells you we are in deep fecal matter. Making the whole thing worse is the fact that over the last few years, the rebels have received outside help.”
Senda raised his eyebrows in a gesture equivalent to that of a human pursing his lips as he considered how to proceed. “It is no secret that the Cernian government is split into two factions. On one side are those who desire independence from the Pact and feel war is inevitable; on the other side are those—like myself—who favor membership in the Pact, if that membership can be obtained as full and equal partners.”
For a moment, there was silence in the room. Everyone knew what Senda had left unsaid. The truth was that while the Cernian Confederation would be a tough nut to crack, the central fleet would eventually win, and Cernia would be reduced to glazed rock. Weakened though it was, the Pact was still stronger than the Confederation. This more than anything else accounted for Senda’s devotion to Windsor. It was Senda himself who broke the silence.
“There is little doubt that those who favor Cernian independence have smuggled arms, ammunition, and other supplies to their countrymen on Teller. Haiken Maru security forces simply aren’t numerous enough to stop them and General Merikur’s predecessor made no effort to do so. In addition, I suspect that a Cernian insurgency expert known as ‘Jomu’ has been sent to Teller. His leadership, plus the smuggled arms, have apparently tipped the balance in favor of the rebels. Jomu belongs to that fraction of our government which believes war is inevitable. It is their desire to recognize Teller as an independent state preparatory to annexing it to the Cernian Confederation. Once they secure a base on Teller, they believe their forces can withstand not only Cluster Command, but units from the central fleet as well. And even if they’re wrong, Teller could still be useful as a bargaining chip in future negotiations.”
“But,” Senda added with one of his upside down grins, “we Cernians are not the only problem on Teller. As General Merikur once pointed out to me, some humans never give up, and the farmers of Teller are a case in point. It seems the human rebels managed to hijack a ground shipment of rare ores a year ago, and have since used it to buy arms from the pirates. They too are harassing Haiken Maru operations and laying siege to settlements. As a matter of fact, the two groups seem to have entered into an uneasy alliance. Between them they’ve managed to slow production to a crawl. As I mentioned earlier, Port City is under siege, and contact with outlying mining and agricultural stations is via armed convoy, since aircraft are vulnerable to ground fire.”
Senda smiled around the room. “To sum up, things have reached a critical stage on Teller, and we need to respond. Governor?”
As Senda took his seat, Windsor stood. “Thank you, Eitor. You’ve done an outstanding job of pulling it all together. There’s only one factor left to discuss and that’s the Haiken Maru.”
He picked up a bound document and held it out for them to see. “I received this a few hours ago. You’re all welcome to read it, but I’ll give you an executive summary. The Haiken Maru is demanding that I send in the marines and restore peace to Teller.”
Lieutenant Commander Moskone frowned. “Assuming we restore peace and, from what Eitor says it wouldn’t be easy, we’d be supporting the moral equivalent of slavery.”
“And almost guaranteeing war with Cernia,” Von Oy added thoughtfully.
“The law is the law,” Tenly countered. “It’s our job to enforce it, not to make it. And if Cernia wants war, we’ll give it to them. Sorry Eitor . . . but that’s how I feel.”
Windsor nodded gravely and smiled. “You all have valid points. I must confess that I don’t see an answer yet. He turned to Senda. “Eitor, I want you and Anson to leave for Teller as soon as possible. Try to find a solution everyone can live with. Anson, I can’t put Eitor in charge because most humans wouldn’t accept him, but I want you to follow his advice on political matters. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Excellent. I’d go myself if I could. But, unfortunately, we’ve got other problems as well. They’ll keep Captain Von Oy and myself occupied for some time. As soon as we put some of them to rest, I’ll drop into Teller for a visit.”
Merikur cleared his throat. “Sir?”
“Yes, Anson?”
“Who signed the communication from the Haiken Maru?”
“One Nola Rankoo.”
“She tried to kill you, Sir.”
Windsor nodded. “She tried to kill all of us, but we don’t have any proof. Or did your interrogation turn up something new?”
Two aliens had survived the ballroom massacre with only minor wounds. Merikur’s intelligence people had debriefed them extensively—and gotten nothing. It wasn’t that the aliens were taciturn; on the contrary, they babbled everything they knew—but what they knew was worthless.
One prisoner had been a mercenary pure and simple; the other was a political crazy who spouted endless drivel. Neither knew who’d organized or paid for the assassination attempt. Both believed no humans were involved. Nola Rankoo and her agents had hidden their tracks well.
“Nothing new, Sir,” Merikur replied. “I’m afraid that’s a dead end.”
Windsor rocked back and forth on his feet. “That’s too bad. I’d love to nail her hide to the wall. What will you do with the two assassins?”
Merikur looked Windsor in the eye. “Bury them.”
Chapter 6
Merikur headed for Teller with 1,000 of his 1,500 marines and seven of his thirty ships. He had left the remainder under the command of Captain Von Oy, who would need them to keep a damper on the rest of the cluster while Merikur was gone.
Merikur was using Commander Yamaguchi’s cruiser, Resplendent, as his flag ship. He also had two transports, two destroyers, a destroyer escort and a scout. They were two hours out of Augustine when he put the scout to use. Lieutenant Commander Moskone took two steps into Yamaguchi’s day cabin, snapped to attention, and rapped out, “Lieutenant Commander Moskone reporting as ordered, Sir!”
Merikur smiled. “Cut the crap, Paul, and have a seat. Coffee’s over there.”
Moskone raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Sir, but why not dump it in a message torp?”
Merikur shook his head. “Because the Haiken Maru has an extremely effective intelligence network. If we send the message by conventional means, chances are they’ll intercept it. That’s why I waited until now. No one will know you’re heading for Sector HQ. Take the scout. Just make damned sure nobody sees that report except Oriana. Okay?”
Moskone gulped his coffee. “Agreed, Sir. I’ll have a drink at the officer’s club for you.”
Merikur nodded. “Make it a double.”
###
An hour later the small scout broke formation and headed for Sector Headquarters. Merikur watched it go via the ship’s plotting tank. The scout was a tiny spark of red light as it swung away from the rest of the fleet and picked up speed. “Good luck, Paul,” Merikur thought. “We’re all going to need it.”
A few minutes later Merikur headed for his cabin, the same stateroom he’d shared with Bethany on the uncomfortable trip out. At least he’d have it to himself this time.
The door slid open to reveal an enormous pile of baggage. Merikur stepped through the hatch and looked around. “Bethany, what the hell are you doing here?”
Bethany stepped out of the sleeping cabin. “Why Anson, is that any way to talk to your devoted wife?”
God, she was beautiful. She didn’t even have to work at it; she just was. He struggled to put a frown on his face. “I thought we agreed that you’d stay on Augustine . . . How did you get aboard anyhow?”