Rod Rees - [The Demi-Monde 02]

by Spring (v5. 0) (epub)

  ‘Yes, Comrade Leader.’

  ‘Amongst those crushed to death were Comrade Vice-Leader Beria, two bishops from the Church of the Doctrine of UnFunDaMentalism, and a number of members of the Medi Senate – including Senior CitiZen Robespierre and Grand Inquisitor Torquemada. In total the butcher’s bill was forty-five dead and seventy-three seriously injured. I suppose we should also add to the death toll those – like Commissar Havelock – who have been executed for their incompetence in permitting such an attack to take place. Is this an accurate summation of the humiliation the ForthRight has suffered?’

  ‘Yes, Comrade Leader.’

  ‘Compounding this, these same terrorists managed to penetrate army security and plant bombs in the boilers of ninety-five of our armoured steamers, and by doing so blow said boilers to buggery and beyond. At a stroke, our arsenal of serviceable armoured steamers has been halved. Is this also an accurate summation of the humbling experienced by the ForthRight?’

  ‘Yes, Comrade Leader.’

  ‘It also appears that the demolition of the Awful Tower was used as the signal for a general uprising against ForthRight forces occupying the Medi. I am informed that Paris, Rome and Barcelona are now …’ Heydrich picked up a report from his desk and flicked through it to a marked page. ‘… in a state of “quiet uproar”. Quiet uproar, Comrade General, is this a military term with which I am unfamiliar? Or perhaps it is a euphemism? Perhaps “uproar” means rebellion? Could it be that the Medi Districts are now in a state of rebellion against their legitimate and ABBA-ordained masters?’

  Skobelev didn’t like the way Heydrich was fingering the heavy crystal ashtray that rested on his desk. The man had a reputation for throwing things at those who annoyed him.

  ‘It might be a little premature to classify it as “rebellion”, Comrade Leader,’ he stammered. ‘Although the people are now following, en masse, the directions of the renegade Aaliz Heydrich …’

  Skobelev prepared to duck, but Heydrich seemed indifferent to his daughter being termed ‘renegade’.

  ‘… what is taking place is more civil disorder than outright rebellion.’

  ‘Disorder,’ Heydrich mused, as he matched a cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling. ‘I have an aversion to disorder, Comrade General. It is a Leader’s task to bring certainty and precision to the running of the Sector he governs, and disorder indicates that he is failing in this duty.’ Suddenly he hurled the ashtray at the wall, where it shattered with a loud bang. Skobelev ducked anyway: practice made perfect. ‘I will not tolerate disorder in any part of the ForthRight. Do you understand me, Comrade General?’

  ‘Yes, Comrade Leader.’

  ‘This disorder will be crushed. The regular army will work in conjunction with the Checkya to eliminate all dissident factions in the Medi, and I do mean all. Any Medi CitiZen giving a member of the ForthRight forces of occupation so much as an unpleasant look is to be instantly shot.’

  With a trembling hand, Heydrich raised a glass of Solution to his lips and took a long swallow. ‘I have also learnt, since my release from the hospital yesterday, that thirty of our new Krupps mortars were lost in the Hub, eaten by nanoBites.’

  There was no point in denying it. ‘That is correct, my Leader. Although Convoy One, with thirty of the mortars, reached Paris safely …’

  Thank you, ABBA.

  ‘… Convoy Two was delayed and was still in the Hub when the nanoBites awoke from hibernation.’

  ‘Am I right in supposing that the thirty mortars we saved are now deployed around Venice?’

  ‘We are hopeful that they will be fully operational within ten days …’

  ‘Mikhail Dmitrievich,’ Heydrich interrupted, somewhat flummoxing Skobelev who had never been addressed in such familiar terms by the Great Leader, ‘may I ask you a personal question?’

  Skobelev spread his hands. ‘Of course, Comrade Leader.’

  ‘Good,’ said Heydrich quietly. ‘So tell me: are you tired of life?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘I asked whether you are tired of life.’

  ‘Why, no.’

  ‘Then why the fuck are you giving me this shit? I don’t want to hear “hopefully”!’ Heydrich’s voice rose to a scream. ‘JUST TAKE FUCKING VENICE! BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T TAKE VENICE, I WILL HAVE YOU AND YOUR FAMILY SHOT. NOW DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?’

  As Skobelev stood there shaking, he realised that he did indeed fucking understand.

  ‘Yes, Comrade Leader.’

  ‘I DEMAND that the destruction of Venice commences tomorrow.’

  ‘Yes, Comrade Leader.’

  Fuck it. Come Hel or high water, the bombardment would start tomorrow, otherwise Skobelev would ensure that his journey to the Spirit World was made in the company of every one of the officers serving on the Venetian front.

  ‘Very well.’ Heydrich took another, longer, swig of Solution. ‘Now hear this, Skobelev. I want Venice pulverised in punishment for the insults the ForthRight has suffered at the hands of these Normalist terrorists. Do you understand?’

  Skobelev nodded. His mouth was so dry that he seemed to have lost the power of speech.

  The Great Leader fell silent for a moment, presumably steeling himself for what he was going to say next. ‘There is more bad news. It would appear that the duplicitous Coven, sensing our weakness, is now refusing to supply coal to the ForthRight. This, as you will understand, Skobelev, is an unacceptable state of affairs, and hence we have no alternative but to take the coal we need by force. To do this, the ForthRight Army must invade the Coven and seize its coal mines and it must do this by early Summer, before our coal stocks are exhausted.’

  Inwardly Skobelev groaned. This wasn’t just bad news, this was fucking bad news and not just because ‘early Summer’ was the time when the monsoon rains were at their heaviest. No, the big problem was that it would necessitate fighting a war on two fronts. It was the touchstone of all ForthRight foreign policy that everything be done to avoid having to fight two Sectors at once. That had been the cause of defeat in the Great War of 512, and no one wanted to revisit that particular level of political mortification.

  ‘With the greatest of respect, my Leader, the army will find it difficult to deal with the subjugation of a recalcitrant Medi, the destruction of Venice and the invasion of the Coven. Our forces are stretched as it is.’

  He got ready to duck.

  Seemingly careless of Skobelev’s concerns, Heydrich accepted a fresh cigarette and a new ashtray from an aide. Only then did he deign to reply. ‘That is why, Comrade General, it is imperative that the current situation in the Quartier Chaud is brought to an expeditious conclusion and Venice is subjugated before the end of Spring. But do not overly concern yourself about the Coven. Our scientists in the ForthRight have not been idle and soon we will unleash an array of Vengeance Weapons the like of which have never been seen in the Demi-Monde. These will be used to vanquish all of the ForthRight’s foes, including those LessBien witches in the Coven.’ Heydrich smiled. It was a horrible smile. ‘But whether you will be around to see their deployment, Skobelev, depends upon your success in taking Venice …’

  Captain Jeremiah Greene shifted his weight on his walking sticks, trying to ease the aching of his foot. The doctors had told him that losing two toes wasn’t that serious, that he’d be walking normally in three or four weeks and that he should think himself lucky to have avoided death by nanoBite. ‘Lucky’ wasn’t quite the word Greene used when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night, tormented by nightmares of being eaten alive by Nibblers. His hair had gone white, too.

  He was brought out of his reverie by a crack, as a shot rang out from the walls surrounding Venice.

  Fucking snipers.

  Building the gabions that protected the army’s thirty remaining mortars from counter-fire by the Venetians had been hot work. The Venetians were no fools and had anticipated that they might one day be besieged from the Medi side of the Grand Canal, and henc
e had refused to permit any building encroaching nearer than one hundred yards to the Canal itself. It was in this empty killing zone that Greene’s sappers had been building their gabions, which made them perfect targets for the Venetian snipers. In their rush to meet the deadline set by the Great Leader, the ForthRight Army had lost more than five hundred men building the gun emplacements. But now, thankfully, the mortars were in position.

  As he cowered behind one of the emplacements, his officer, Major Yuri Borissov, came scuttling up. ‘The bombardment will commence at dawn tomorrow,’ Borissov advised his captain.

  ‘But we’re not ready! I think—’

  ‘Don’t think, Captain Greene,’ his major snapped. ‘Thinking is frowned on in the ForthRight Army. Here we celebrate obedience and sacrifice, and thinking is seen as a very UnderMentionable trait.’

  Greene gave a doleful nod, trying to keep his expression impassive as he did so. He might be stupid but he knew a warning when he was given one.

  ‘And for your information, the bombardment will begin at dawn tomorrow come what may. Any mortar crew unable to fire will be shot as traitors to UnFunDaMentalism. That is the express order of Comrade General Skobelev. Tomorrow, the ForthRight will begin its “Shock and Or” campaign against the pagan Venetians.’

  ‘Shock and Or?’

  ‘Yes. The weight of the bombardment and the unrelenting destruction visited on a city will be such that it shocks the population into understanding that resistance is futile.’

  ‘And the “Or”?’

  ‘That is the next stage: surrender or we will carry on pounding you to dogshit.’

  ‘I see. And this is the military doctrine which will be initiated at dawn tomorrow?’

  ‘Correct. We have thirty mortars each capable of firing a oneton shell every ten minutes. This means that one hundred and eighty tons of high explosives will be landing on Venice every hour. Give it five days, Greene, and the place will have been blasted back to its Mantle-ite foundations. Venice will have ceased to exist.’

  De Sade stood beside the Lady IMmanual atop the city walls gazing at the ForthRight Army scurrying like so many ants on the far side of the Grand Canal. This, he decided, was one of those pivotal moments in history: tomorrow the fate of the Demi-Monde would be decided. More … it would be the moment when he had to make up his mind whose side he was on. If he chose right, Venice could be his, but if he chose wrong …

  He handed the Lady his telescope and pointed down to the huge stone and brick emplacements that the ForthRight Army – despite the best efforts of the Venetian sharpshooters – had succeeded in throwing up along the far side of the Grand Canal.

  ‘Tomorrow morning, I reckon, my Lady. I’ve been watching the UnFunnies’ steamers chug back and forth for the last day or so, delivering mortar bombs. That means the attack must be imminent.’

  ‘Mortars? That’s unusual. They didn’t use mortars when they attacked Warsaw.’

  De Sade shrugged. ‘Nasty pieces of work, mortars. The six or seven ranging shots the UnFunnies have fired did a Hel of a lot of damage; one of them took out most of the San Polo district. And our intelligence tells us they’ve got thirty of the brutes down there, enough to pulverise Venice to dust, and then some.’

  ‘So what to do?’

  ‘To save Venice? I think that will need one of your miracles, my Lady. Maybe you could destroy the ForthRight Army. Send a plague of poisonous locusts … that sort of thing.’

  The Lady IMmanual smiled. It was really quite an unpleasant smile, one that betokened condescension and arrogance.

  ‘I did promise the people of Venice that I would protect them from the ForthRight, didn’t I? You really think that the only thing that can save Venice is a miracle?’

  De Sade gave a nod.

  ‘Then to perform a miracle it will be necessary for the Doge to issue orders that the Bank of Venice be cleared. I can only work my magic in a Blood Bank.’

  ‘The Lady IMmanual hath requested that she be granted leave to enter the Bank of Venice, Your Most Reverend Excellency, and there to perform a ritual most strange and esoteric.’

  ‘Vhy? To vot end?’

  ‘It would seem that she hath the full intent of discomfiting the ForthRight Army that is now encamped beyond our walls,’ answered Sister Florence.

  ‘Unt how will she do zhis?’

  ‘By the performing of a miracle.’

  Doge Catherine-Sophia took a long swig of Solution and then lapsed into a fretful silence as she cogitated on this piece of disturbing intelligence. By the way her aura wavered Sister Florence could see that the burgeoning power of the Lady IMmanual was worrying the Doge. But then, she supposed, no one liked to be usurped, and the growing popularity of the Lady IMmanual made that eventuality ever more likely.

  Oddly it was the events in Paris rather than in Venice that had reinforced the Lady IMmanual’s reputation with the Venetian hoi polloi. Even though she had had nothing to do with the destruction of the Awful Tower and the assassination of Beria, the newspapers in Venice had given her the credit for inspiring the attack. The Venetian Visualiser had even gone so far as to suggest that it had been IMmanualists, not Normalists, who had perpetrated what it called ‘this courageous and audacious humiliation of Heydrich and his thugs’. As the Visualiser suggested, the attack could hardly be the work of the non-violent Normalists if fifty people had been killed; rather it must have been that firm and resolute Defender of Freedom the Lady IMmanual who had done the deed. Thanks to the Visualiser, the Lady had been acclaimed as the saviour of Venice, and her prestige waxed while that of the Doge waned. The talk on the streets was that the Doge Catherine-Sophia should stand down, to make way for Doge IMmanual.

  ‘Unt zhe aim of zhis miracle?’

  ‘To make the most sudden and complete destruction of the artillery positioned on the far side of the Grand Canal, Your Most Reverend Excellency.’

  The Sister watched the Doge struggle with the political implications of allowing the Lady IMmanual permission to attempt such a miracle. If she granted permission and the Lady was successful, then her own position as Doge would be untenable, but if she refused permission and the ForthRight Army was to bombard Venice, then her position as Doge would be forfeit. Heads the Lady won, and tails the Doge lost.

  ‘Unt vhat is your opinion regarding zhis matter, good Zizter?’

  ‘You have little option, my Doge, but to allow the Lady to save Venice. But I most earnestly entreat thee to mark the Lady IMmanual most carefully. She is not all that she wouldst have us believe her to be.’

  ‘You have seen changes in her aura?’

  Sister Florence nodded. ‘When she did put Patrician Dandolo most brutally to the sword, for a fleeting instant I did perceive a darkening of her aura which, methinks, betokens deep connivance. Thus prompted, I have given much consideration to her these past days, and I now believe that she holds her true colours in most devious concealment.’

  ‘Hmmmmp,’ snorted an obviously dissatisfied Doge. ‘You must zee, Zizter Florence, zhat I am unable to act merely on zuzpicion unt conjecture.’

  ‘Prithee, my Doge, her actions, in claiming the success of the Normalists as her own, are not those of an honourable person.’

  ‘No politician is honourable, Zizter; all of uz are adept at claiming credit for anozzer’s success. Zhis is not zhe mark ov perfidiousness, merely zhe zignal zhat zhe Lady IMmanual is an accomplished statesvoman. If I chop her for zhat, I must chop every member of zhe Council of Ten.’

  ‘My Doge, I beg thee, be most wary of this woman. Her aura is unique. Never have I seen an aura of such depth, of such intensity or of such brilliance …’

  ‘But?’ prompted the Doge.

  Sister Florence stifled a smile. Drunk or not, Doge Catherine-Sophia had sensed the unsaid. ‘The colour of her aura is strange. I have made close enquiry of the Convent’s archives, but there is no account of any being possessèd of a silver aura. It is true the WhoDoo mambos associate the colour silver
with those perverse creatures of mythology the Lilithi, but other than that there is no evidence to provoke my disquiet. But nevertheless, I am minded that whilst silver is most certainly a divine hue, it is also one which speaketh of that which is hard, unyielding, inhuman.’

  ‘But if she is truly zhe Messiah, it is to be expected, is it not?, zhat she would have an unworldly cast.’

  ‘Indeed, my Doge. Mayhap I am still befuddled by the gross experiences I did endure in Paris at the hands of the erstwhile assassin Zolotov. Mayhap my metaphysical senses are disturbed, but now when I gaze on the Lady I am possessèd not by a sense of being uplifted but rather by a sense of dread.’

  ‘I need more conclusive proof zhan zhat of her ill intentions.’

  ‘Then I must see her in congress. Only then will her true aura be all revealèd.’

  ‘But how? You tell me zhat she has avoided all pleasures ov zhe flesh zince she came to Venice.’

  ‘And that in itself is of the greatest significance, my Doge. Methinks she is thus contrary in order to prevent her aura being examined at the point of orgasm.’

  ‘Maybe Daemons don’t like to be vatched vhilst zhey are fucking?’ The Doge paused to take a long, reflective sip of her Solution. ‘But you Visual Virgins are experts in zhe erotic arts, are you not? Perhaps you could arrange things zo zhat zhe Lady IMmanual is unable to resist zhe overtures of her vould-be lovers. Zhere are aphrodisiacs, are zhere not?’

  ‘But their use is illegal, my Doge! ImPuritanism demands that erotic acts are unsullied by artificial excitements.’

  ‘Pah! In matters of state security nothing is illegal. Zee to it, good Zizter. Perhaps ve should perform zhis interrogation by seduction on Walpurgisnacht?’

  ‘It is the most cunning of suggestions, Your Most Reverend Excellency …’

  Sister Florence let her sentence trail away. There really was no need to finish. Walpurgisnacht was the night that marked the end of Spring and the advent of Summer and, as was traditional in Venice, it was the night for role reversal, when the women portrayed Evil and the men Good, and everyone had an enjoyable time as Good came – during the course of a very tiring night – to dominate Evil.