Forge a New Blade (The Laredo War Book 2)

by Peter Grant

  “Will it collapse?”

  “I’m afraid it might. I’m seeing all sorts of stresses here, strains there. We – the whole edifice of pride we’ve built for ourselves as a nation – took a hammer-blow at Tapuria two years ago. We saw the myth of our military invincibility shattered. My father’s head was sent rolling around the floor by a rebel hit squad using our own captured equipment against him. Our occupation of Termaz has never recovered, because we couldn’t afford to replace most of the troops and equipment we lost; and the thousands of dead listed in the news media, and the thousands of injured – a lot of them maimed for life – who came trickling home to tell their families about the disaster, did an immense amount of damage to the reputation of our armed forces. They’ve never recovered from it.”

  She nodded beside him. “I know. Enlistments are still way down, and the numbers trying to dodge military conscription – even at the cost of a jail sentence if they’re caught – are way up. The House of the People flat turned down our request for an increase in the defense budget last year, on the grounds that we hadn’t made the best use of what we’d already been given. They’d been bled dry by the war establishment for years. For the first time they cracked under the pressure and said, ‘No more’. I couldn’t blame them, quite frankly.”

  “Yes. Shakespeare would say that the worm turned at last.”

  She sighed. “If you want to get all literary about it – not to mention religious, in this case – I can’t help but be reminded of a line from one of the ancient Jewish prophets. It was something like ‘They have sown the wind, so they’ll reap the whirlwind’. Scary.”

  “It’s not a bad way of putting it. The whirlwind’s getting closer all the time, both inside our society and externally at the United Planets.”

  “And militarily?”

  “I don’t know. None of us do. We don’t know what the rebels have been doing or what their capabilities are.”

  “I guess by the time we find out, it’ll be too late to take cover from the whirlwind in the storm cellar.”

  “I hope you’re wrong. I really, really hope you’re wrong, darling… Whatever happens, all we can do is hang on and try to ride the whirlwind wherever it takes us. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

  Bactria: April 18 2852 GSC

  SATRAP’S GUARD RESEARCH CENTER, OUTSIDE SODIA

  The guard on duty at the console stiffened as a red light began to flash. He pulled his chair closer, peering at a screen. It showed a lidar image of something very small approaching the corner of the flat roof. He reached for a microphone.

  “Security Center to roof sentry, looks like a flitterbug approaching the south corner, over.”

  “Roof to SecCen, understood, I’m scanning, wait one.”

  Silence for a few moments.

  “Roof here, I see it. Do you want me to take it down? Over.”

  “SecCen to roof, take it intact for analysis if you can. Over.”

  “Roof to SecCen, stand by.” Silence again, then, “Got it! It’s in the nets. It seemed to be coming in a straight line from the Weapons Center, from what I could see. Over.”

  “SecCen to Roof, I agree – the lidar track indicates that too. Don’t pick it up. Wait for the Sergeant-Major. I’m going to alert Security to check the Weapons Center roof. Stand by.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sergeant-Major Indic watched as the security vid ran its course. “And you’ve no idea who that is, Sir?” he asked.

  “None,” Major Daria replied curtly. “He’s all bundled up, he’s wearing dark glasses and his face is wrapped. Our facial recognition software can’t pick up enough features to function.”

  “With respect, Sir, that won’t do.”

  The officer flared up at once. “Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what will or won’t do? I’m a Major, dammit! You’re just an NCO! Wait – what do you think you’re doing?” Indic had picked up the officer’s handset from the desk.

  “Just a moment, please, Sir.” Indic’s voice was curt, unforgiving as he entered a code. He waited until a voice responded, then said, “Sergeant-Major Indic requests to speak to the Colonel urgently.”

  “Wait one,” a crisp voice responded.

  “The Colonel?” Major Daria’s voice was suddenly an octave higher, panicky. “Look, there’s no need to –”

  Indic ignored him as another voice came on the line. “Good morning, Sir. Sergeant-Major Indic here… Fine, thank you, Sir. I regret to have to report a lack of performance, initiative and support from Major Daria of the Security Desk at the Research Center, Sir. He’s just blown me off after we detected an attempted intrusion into our project… Yes, Sir, I’m in his office at present… Here he is, Sir.”

  He handed the handset to the stunned Major. “The Colonel wishes to speak to you, Sir.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and walked out.

  Chief Sergeant Traxiane was waiting patiently outside. She smiled at him as he emerged. “Sorted?”

  “No, but it will be soon. I reckon we’ll have a new Security CO within the hour.” They began walking down the corridor towards the elevators.

  “So that top-level access they promised you really does work?”

  “I reckon so. If the Colonel doesn’t come through, the next call goes to Her Majesty. I figure the Colonel knows that.”

  She gave a low, throaty chuckle. “That’ll concentrate his mind, all right!”

  “I hope so. Did you look at the vid?”

  “Yeah. I ran it three times. Hard to identify a bulky figure coming downstairs in a hurry carrying a console, but I noticed two things. He was wearing old-fashioned brown leather shoes, not our issue synthetics; and the console looked to be off-white or gray instead of our standard white flitterbug control units.”

  “Good work!” He clapped his deputy on the back. “I hadn’t had time to watch it more than once. You’ve just saved me the effort. Let’s get a couple more people here and stand by. We should have permission to proceed within a few minutes. Oh – and be prepared for trouble. If we find this guy, he may not come quietly.”

  “Got it.”

  As soon as they reached the entrance lobby Indic asked the Sergeant in charge at the security desk, “OK if I use your comm unit?”

  “Anything at all, Sergeant-Major.” The man offered him the handset with almost exaggerated respect. Indic’s reputation had acquired legendary proportions in the Satrap’s Guard since his recruitment on Turmaz and the savage, no-nonsense, no-holds-barred combat training he’d put them through after his return to Bactria. His recent two-step promotion and appointment to command a team of the toughest, most experienced NCO’s and troops in the Guard, protecting a top-secret ‘research project’ about which nobody knew anything, had done nothing to diminish his status.

  The Sergeant-Major entered the code for the main entrance to the secure Research Center compound. “Sergeant-Major Indic speaking. I need the Officer of the Watch, please… Hello, Lieutenant. Sergeant-Major Indic here. Sir, I respectfully request that your guards stop anyone leaving who’s wearing old-fashioned brown leather shoes instead of our issue synthetics, or who’s carrying a control console in off-white or light gray color instead of standard white… Yes, Sir, I know that means they’ll have to look inside briefcases and other containers… Yes, Sir, please feel free to confirm this with Major Daria. I’m sure he’s finished his conversation with the Colonel by now… Thank you, Sir. Please keep me informed if you find anything. Here’s my personal comm code.” He read off the digits. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He returned the handset to the NCO behind the counter. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’m going to bring in a few of my people. As soon as we hear from Major Daria, we’ll be splitting up to search every floor of this building.”

  The Sergeant’s eyebrows flew up, but he didn’t hesitate. “Is something wrong, Sergeant-Major? Would you like the help of any of my team? Take whoever you need.”

  Indic grinned at him. “Thanks for your c
o-operation. I won’t forget it; but I think we can manage. I –”

  He was interrupted by the crackle of shots from the main entrance to the compound, a hundred meters away. The sergeant could only gape as Indic and his deputy spun on their heels and disappeared through the door like greyhounds leaving the starting gate, drawing their pulsers as they sprinted towards the sound of the guns.

  ~ ~ ~

  The ornate car, flying the Satrap’s personal flag, drew up outside the entrance to the compound. A half-shouted, half-screamed “At-ten-SHUN!” from the nearest Guardsman slammed everyone into a rigid brace.

  The rear window of the limousine rolled down, and the face of the Satrap’s wife appeared. “Sergeant-Major Indic!”

  “Coming, Ma’am!” He hurried over to the car.

  “I just heard. Is…?”

  He lowered his voice. “Everything’s fine, Ma’am. Someone tried to snoop on our… project. We saw his flitterbug coming and caught it. He tried to get away, but my deputy had noticed a couple of clues in his appearance on security vid. I notified the gate, and they spotted him. He tried to fight his way clear and they shot him. One of the gate guards was injured, but not badly.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Who was he?”

  “We don’t know yet, Ma’am. He was using a fake Guard ID. However, we have the flitterbug he used, the console from which he controlled it, and his pulser. They all have serial numbers. We should be able to trace who bought them, when and where. That’ll give us a starting point for further investigations.”

  “Good. Call your deputy over and get in. I need to talk with both of you privately.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  He looked around, spotted Chief Sergeant Traxiane and waved her over, then walked around to the other side of the vehicle. He ushered her into the back seat, then opened the front door and sat down beside the driver, a uniformed guard from the Satrap’s hand-picked personal security detachment. He’d chosen them personally, discretion being among their most important attributes; but even such hand-picked guards didn’t need to be part of a conversation like this. “Go get a cup of coffee in the guardhouse,” he told him. “I’ll call you when we finish.”

  “Yes, Sergeant-Major!” The driver let himself out of the vehicle and closed the door.

  “Thank you both for your alertness this morning,” Zeba began with a sigh. “I was petrified when I heard there was trouble. I didn’t know everything was OK until I got here. You’re not just saying that to reassure me, are you?”

  “No, Ma’am,” Traxiane said briskly, shaking her head. “He never got his flitterbug inside, and he didn’t enter our building at all.”

  “D’you think it’s still safe to hide in plain sight like this?”

  “Why not, Ma’am?” Indic asked reasonably. “Here we’re just one high-security building in a compound full of them, each one busy with a different project. There’s nothing to make us stand out. I reckon whoever that was that tried to snoop couldn’t have known anything about… our special project.” Even in the presence of the person responsible for his being here, he couldn’t bring himself to identify what they were guarding.

  He went on, “He probably wanted to check all the buildings, and we were just the next on his list. We’ll know more when we check the records on the data chip in his pocket. They’re also checking every building’s roof to see whether any of them have possible entry points for flitterbugs. If they do, he may have infiltrated more than one project. They’ll work through the night if necessary to track them down.”

  “All right.” She was silent for a moment, clearly collecting her thoughts. “If it turns out to be an attempt to infiltrate all the Guard’s secret projects, you know as well as I do who’s likely to be behind it.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. That’ll be just like the SS. They never trust anybody, and suspect even their own side.” He spat out the name in disgust. No combat veteran had anything but contempt for the security service that on Termaz had often arrested soldiers suspected of ‘defeatism’, tortured them in the name of ‘interrogation’, and more often than not returned the innocent ones to their units so broken in spirit as to be useless for further soldiering.

  “If they suspect what you’re really doing here, that makes it even more important to keep this secret, even after the baby’s born.”

  “I understand, Ma’am. I hope you’re taking extra precautions with your firstborn?”

  “Yes, we are.” Her face broke into a soft, warm smile despite the worry on her features. “He’s being well guarded, and we’ve vetted all his nurses and caretakers more strictly than ever before. Some of those who were turned down are livid about it, because their families had traditionally provided such services, but my husband’s been absolutely ruthless about it.”

  “As well he should, Ma’am!” Traxiane agreed vehemently.

  “According to the grapevine, I understand that you two are becoming an item. Is that right?” Zeba asked, looking back and forth between them.

  Indic blushed. “Er… well… ah, yes, Ma’am. We’re talking about it.”

  Traxiane grinned wickedly. “Doing something about it, too, now and again.” She nudged Indic with her elbow, and Zeba laughed aloud.

  “I’m very glad to hear it. It makes it easier for me to ask you to do more. I know we said that when this child was born, she’d join her brother in the Royal Nursery. Now… now I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, at least not right away. There are undercurrents that I really don’t like. I may ask you to keep her secure in the country for a while longer – not here, of course, but somewhere else that’s secure. I’ll visit when I can, but it may be several months before we dare have both of our children in the same location. Will you do your best to care for her until we can do that? As far as the rest of the planet’s concerned, she’ll be your own child.”

  Indic rolled his eyes heavenwards. “What was that ancient ditty from Old Home Earth? I think it began, ‘Kiss me goodnight, Sergeant-Major’. I never dreamed it’d come true!”

  The ladies broke into delighted laughter. “I’ve never heard of that one,” Zeba said, chuckling. “I’ll have to look it up. Yes, Sergeant-Major, I want you to kiss my daughter goodnight in my stead. You do the same, please, Chief Sergeant. With luck it’ll only be for a few months, then we can get back to normal.”

  “We’ll do it, Ma’am,” Traxiane assured her. “It’ll be good practice for someone I know before his own kids begin to pop out.”

  As the others laughed again, Indic could only grit his teeth. He couldn’t remember blushing this much since he’d wandered into the wrong changing-room at school in his pre-teen years.

  ~ ~ ~

  ENTERTAINMENT DISTRICT, SODIA

  A uniformed waiter knocked at the door of the private dining room, entered, walked swiftly and silently to Wazir Khanoum at the head of the table and handed him a note. The Wazir unfolded and read it as the waiter left the room.

  “It seems Major Kadeh is unavoidably detained. He asks that we start without him, but not leave until he gets here, as he has news that affects all of us.”

  “Hmm. Wonder what’s going on?” General Demetrias pondered aloud as he reached for his glass. “Oh, well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Yes. I’m glad we can get down to business, because my first issue concerns the Army in particular, my dear General.”

  “Oh? Is something wrong?”

  “Let’s just say I’m concerned. Are you aware of the growing tide of resentment against the military among the common people?”

  Major-General Pamir snorted. “We can hardly not be aware of it, Wazir! Ever since the House of the People turned down the Satrap’s request for an increased defense budget last year, they’ve been getting uppity. I can’t understand why the Satrap didn’t do what his father and grandfather used to do; arrest some of the recalcitrant ones and call for another vote while they were safely locked
up. By the time they got out, loyal delegates would have passed whatever the Satrap wanted and further opposition usually proved pointless. If they didn’t learn the first time, they learned the next – if they were ever released after their second arrest, that is.”

  “I agree, General. Unfortunately the present Satrap has more patience than his predecessors in office with ‘the recalcitrant ones’, as you called them. He really seems to believe that they have the right to vote as they see fit. That’s not a problem in the House of Nobles, fortunately.” The Wazir snorted in disdain. “If the junior nobles don’t vote as we Wazirs tell them to, they soon hear about it from us! We’ll have no independent thinking in our House, thank you very much!”

  “I only wish you could apply the same discipline to the House of the People,” General Gedrosia of the SS assured him fervently.

  “Perhaps one day we will. Anyway, let’s get back to the point. It seems to me that as more and more troops come back from Termaz and share their stories with their families and friends, that’s spreading greater resentment, even disaffection, among the people. Would you agree?”

  “I fear you’re right, Wazir,” Demetrias admitted. “I’d much rather not have brought those units back until we’d been able to stiffen their spines after the calamity at Tapuria. Unfortunately, the Satrap didn’t listen to my arguments against reducing our forces on Termaz. He made decisions based solely on what he believed we could afford. That’s very hard to argue against, of course; but to my mind, military priorities should override mere bezants and bean-counters and budgets. In the past we always found money for them from somewhere, even if we had to squeeze the people a little harder or reduce state subsidies for other things.”

  Colonel Fergan added, “Failures to report for conscripted service are thirty per cent higher this year than last year, Wazir, and last year they were twenty per cent higher than the year before. It’s becoming a serious drain on our infantry strength. What’s more, re-enlistments are down by almost half. We used to be able to offer bonuses to those with skills in areas of high demand to encourage their retention, but now we can’t afford that; so commerce and industry are poaching our best, most highly trained, most skilled soldiers from us in ever-increasing numbers.”