“Sufficient, doctor?” Vereshchagin asked.
“I foresee no difficulty.”
“Battalion Sergeant, what other health concerns have we?” “Sir. Water recycling. The equipment was not broken out of storage until we boarded. It does not appear to be functioning
properly.”
“Soldiers always complain about the taste of water recycled from urine,” Devoucoux commented wryly.
“Please look into the matter thoroughly, Claude.” Vereshchagin turned to the fourth man present, the battalion’s executive officer. “Matti, do you have anything?”
Matti Haqalo stretched out his arms. “As mentioned, the gymnasium is a problem. We need a football field. I would mention Reinikka wants me to play midfield. He claims engineers are all intellectuals.”
Major Haijalo had soft eyes of gray-blue in an oval face. The battalion being short more than a few officers, he doubled as operations officer. He was built more solidly than his appearance suggested, which sufficed to make his progression down a football field suggestive of a wrecking ball.
“Agreed,” Vereshchagin said, tapping his pipe against the heel of his hand. “Yuri, how long before we eat up what is crated in the gym?”
“Seven weeks, three days.”
“Unacceptable. Move the boxes somewhere.”
“Sir.”
“What else?”
“The ship’s engineer intimated he would be happy to present some lectures. He seemed to feel we have not enough to keep ourselves occupied,” Haijalo volunteered.
“What did he suggest?”
“Binomial theory, the ship’s propulsion system ...” “Enough. I hope that you did not disabuse him too roughly. ” “I asked if he was willing to administer the coercion necessary and invited him to attend one of Raul Sanmartin’s presentations on nudibranchs instead. He had a most perplexed look. ’ ’ “I would not doubt. Have we other business?”
“The battalion sergeant has brought to my attention one other problem.”
“This is?”
“When are you going into the box, Anton?”
The only two persons who would be gainfully employed for the entire voyage were Battalion Sergeant Malinov and Devo-ucoux. As executive officer, Major Haijalo kept his eyes on such things.
Vereshchagin sighed. He thought for a moment. “I will go down now with A and C. Get things organized, then put yourself under and let Paul take over for a while.”
The Hangman, Major Paul Henke, could easily handle anything that would come up.
"Is there anything else? We have taken up enough of our time, then,” Vereshchagin said.
IN THE ICEBOX, SPACES WERE LAID RACK UPON RACK, TIER UPON tier, like caskets in a morgue. When Vereshchagin felt the pinprick on his arm, he waited for his body to cool, considering Suid-Afrika.
Kaga would rendezvous with a freighter carrying a veteran light attack battalion from Canisius, and with six ships from Earth carrying two more rifle battalions, a brigade headquarters, a support battalion, a gun-howitzer company, an engineer construction company, a cadre for locally raised battalions, heavy air transport companies, ground-attack aircraft, police, odds and ends. The main task group would be accompanied by a frigate and three corvettes to provide space-borne fire support.
No task group was ever large enough, particularly for an entire world. What Vereshchagin found disturbing was the policy statement that the task group would occupy points of settlement “to protect Imperial interests.”
Apart from landing-port facilities and one offshore energy tap, Suid Afrika’s only strategic points were mining, refining, and metallurgical facilities, which could be taken and held by a reinforced battalion or two. Bfct Admiral R. E. Lee, the task group commander, envisioned something quite different. The occupation of nonessential points was a bloody business in Vereshchagin’s opinion. It tempted people to resist. The thought lay like a dead weight in his mind until he felt himself sink into chemical sleep and five months passed from his life.
Suid-Afrika Orbit, Inbound
KAGA CAME IN ON A FAST ELLIPTICAL ORBIT, WASTING VIRTU-ally all of its remaining velocity on a swing around the system’s star. Freed of that enormous burden, it coasted to a stationary orbit on the side of Suid-Afrika opposite Akashi Continent behind the freighter Reykjavik Maru from Canisius. The “Ode to Joy” from Beethoven’s Ninth drifted over the ship’s sound system, followed by Haydn and Mendelssohn.
Vereshchagin’s men turned in coveralls that were bone-dry from cleaning in hard vacuum. They resumed combat gear to wait. The Earth ships arrived eighty hours later, bellwethered by the frigate Graf Spee with her corvettes attached.
As they boarded the transport Shokaky, Vereshchagin and Haijalo were met by a lean major with white streaks in his hair. The major saluted and then stuck out a hand to shake. “I’m Rettaglia, task group intelligence officer. I’ve appointed myself your tour guide.” He nodded at a few of the staff officers scurrying through the corridors. “Things are a bit confused at present. The brigade commander, Colonel Lynch, will have conduct of ground operations. He’s waiting to hand you your operations plan.”
Matti Harjalo stole a glance at Vereshchagin. “How much of a plan has he worked up?”
“All of one, I’m afraid.” Rettaglia motioned them down the passageway and was almost run over by a harried-looking lieutenant with a clipboard. He added over his shoulder, “Gamliel, the political officer, will be present. Watch him. To answer the question you haven’t asked, when Colonel Lynch called his fourth planning meeting two weeks ago, Admiral Lee remarked that we were having planning meetings to plan meetings. Colonel Lynch hasn’t called a meeting since.”
“I see,” Vereshchagin said.
They were met at the door to the ship’s conference room by Colonel Lynch’s aide, a captain named Dong. Lynch and Gam-liel were seated inside. Rettaglia made introductions. Lynch was stout with a very pale complexion. Gamliel had sharp features and a round, pock-marked face.
Lynch stood up and exclaimed, “Welcome aboard, Vereshchagin. I trust you’re eager.” Dong passed over copies of a thick operations order.
“I am sure this will be most interesting for us,” Vereshchagin replied, glancing at the document.
Lynch placed himself in his chair heavily. "The other units have been briefed. I expect you will be able to carry out your tasks with equal diligence. I see that you were on Ashikagi with Admiral Nakamura. That must have been an interesting situation.” Vereshchagin seated himself, murmuring politely, “The ca-cos—the cakes—were in rebellion against the oligarchs and in full control of the planet. They continued in rebellion after our arrival. The oligarchs were only slightly less hostile. Admiral Nakamura felt that he should have been given two more battalions. Fortunately, we were able to resolve the matter.”
“Major Purnamo was a classmate of mine. Did you know him?” Gamliel asked.
“Quite well. Too well,” Haijalo replied.
After an awkward pause, Lynch said, “I would like to see your most recent status reports, I assume you brought them.” “They weren’t requested, so I’m afraid we didn’t,” Haijalo said blandly. He flipped through the operations order. “The intelligence analysis here is a pile of stuff.”
Lynch’s face colored perceptibly.
Rettaglia smiled. “My regrets. In order to preserve strategic and tactical surprise, Admiral Lee did not allow me to initiate local intelligence-gathering prior to landing.”
Vereshchagin tapped the operations order in his hand lightly. “Colonel Lynch, may I make one small suggestion? The climate down there is extremely hot and humid, which will severely affect operations. After eight months aboard a transport rotating in and out of hibernation units, my men are not in the best physical condition. Let us push the schedule of landings back seven days so we can acclimatize ourselves in some uninhabited area.”
Gamliel made a slight gesture with his fingers.
“No, Admiral Lee would never contenance it,” D
ong said. Out of the comer of his eye, Vereshchagin watched Matti
Haijalo’s face tighten. “A second point, the USS manufacturing complex is listed as one of ourvprimary first day objectives. With your permission, I will airdrop a company there.”
Lynch put his hand down on the table sharply. “Impossible. A night drop on Complex is completely out of die question. We could never support them.”
“Frosty hell,” Haijalo said bluntly, “we can at least put people down on the Complex. You have a platoon airdrop on the ocean tap listed here. There isn’t room on the ocean tap to swing a rope.”
Gamliel started to say, “The ocean tap won’t be defended ...” He stopped when he saw Rettaglia grin broadly.
“What kind of weather patterns do we have out at the tap? Are there morning updrafts? ’ ’ Haijalo asked. “Do we even have a recent photo?”
There was a slight silence. Dong said, “It’s too late to alter the shuttle schedules.”
Looking over at Gamliel, Rettaglia asked smoothly, “With Colonel Lynch’s permission, Louis, why don’t you fill them in on the political situation?”
Gamliel cleared his throat. “United Steel-Standard was originally chartered to exploit Suid-Afrika’s fusion metal deposits. The corporation was facing adverse tax consequences at a time when the Guardianship Council wanted to move the metals markets.”
Rettaglia inteijected, “The Imperial Government agreed to give them a credit on their excess shipping and development costs. The Lower Diet characterized it as a license to steal.” Gamliel paused noticeably before continuing. “USS planned to supplement a small permanent staff with unsubsidized emigrants and filled dead space on the carrier ships with members of five disparate religious sects. USS hoped that the sects would provide food for the permanent staff and become a consumer market.”
“Cheap labor,” Harjalo commented.
“The sects were very undercapitalized. The experiment was unsuccessful,” Gamliel told them.
“They died, mostly,” Rettaglia commented.
Gamliel dabbed at his chin with a small handkerchief. “A better organized colonization attempt was made in cooperation with the govemment-in-exile of the former Republic of South Africa, using Afrikaner refugees who survived the crack-up and the Bantu Wars. The exiles had skills which allowed USS to significantly reduce the staff being paid isolation wages.”
Rettalgia inteijected again. “Although USS set up a counterbalance by introducing the so-called cowboys, it didn’t occur to them that they were handing the Boer miners a stranglehold over their production. The Boers remember their history, and they’ve never forgotten or forgiven Jan Companie, the United East India Company, to which USS bears more than a passing resemblance. When USS terminated the ‘Zutpansberg Seven’ for labor agitation, the Boer elite decided to alter the distribution of power. They began with a general strike. After enough ships grounded without loading, the USS planetary director negotiated an arrangement and honorably committed suicide. I understand that negotiations were materially speeded when a Boer militia kommando started using USS industrial robots for target practice.”
Colonel Lynch said, “Major Rettaglia, would you please stick to the point and avoid interruption.”
Gamliel continued, “The agreement provided for import schedules, prioritized employment of Afrikaners, a wage-price understanding, and diversion of some production toward local needs. USS attempted to evade fulfillment of these terms, which led to several years of production slow-downs. With a deteriorating bargaining position, a second USS planetary director capitulated abjectly. The USS Directorate did not approve.”
“Tell them about the cowboys,” Dong suggested.
“The cowboys initiated a final crisis. Although they were intended as a counterweight to the Boers, USS exploited them in a short-sighted manner. Sagging margins led USS to cut passage fees below cost and export agricultural produce to the newly opened Zaibatsu planets. The amount of land cultivated by the cowboys doubled at the same time the expanding Afrikaner population began turning to agriculture. The cowboys found themselves pushed out of markets on-planet at the same time the Zaibatsu markets went soft. Deficiencies in survey and the inadequacy of the USS governmental structure turned disputes over land tenure and contract interference into armed clashes. ’ ’ Gamliel tucked his handkerchief away.
“On Earth, the USS Directorate determined to break the Afrikaners and supplied the cowboys with mercenaries under the guise of labor guards. Internecine feuding on-planet bccame general, and USS governmental authority collapsed. USS belatedly enlisted Imperial Government support. However, the
Guardianship Council voided the charter for the planet before dispatching this task force,” he concluded.
“Colonel, what precisely is our objective, and what is USS’s status?” Vereshchagin asked.
“We are to restore order and cooperate with corporate officials,” Colonel Lynch informed him.
“I see,” said Vereshchagin. He closed his eyes and said, “The loading schedule here is very sketchy. If you would allow me to make some slight modifications to the plan overall, I believe that I can guarantee successful completion of my assigned mission. Otherwise ...” Vereshchagin let his voice trail away.
Rettaglia said innocently, “Lieutenant-Colonel Vereshchagin and Major Haijalo haven’t met Admiral Lee yet. I am trying to get them on the Admiral’s schedule.”
After a moment, Gamliel nodded almost imperceptibly. Dong asked, “But what about the shuttles?”
Lynch pursed his lips and thought for a minute or two. Then he said, “All right, Vereshchagin. Go ahead and work up whatever small changes you think are necessary. But no changing the shuttle schedules and no air drop on Complex!”
“Thank you, sir,” Vereshchagin replied, patting Matti Haijalo’s arm lightly.
Rettaglia took them back out into the passageway. “Brigade staff will be handling the landing. They’re rather new at it. I’ll take you around to meet key personnel. ’ ’ He added with disarming candor, “Although the Council voided the USS’s charter, the corporation was allowed to retain concessions which blur the distinction that direct Imperial rule was meant to draw. The fact is, USS hasn’t articulated its policy objectives, and the Guardianship Council was reluctant to impose any. I do think you’ll like Admiral Lee. He’s a very sharp officer. Of course, he’s never had any duty with line troops and has not involved himself in the operational planning. He sees Suid-Afrika primarily as a political problem.”
“I see,” said Vereshchagin.
Vereshchagin paused to consider the seven men he had brought together in Kaga’s tiny stateroom.
Lev Yevtushenko, the lieutenant from the reconnaissance platoon, was squeezed into a comer. Beside him were Malinov, Haijalo, and Vereshchagin’s four company commanders: Major Piotr Kolomeitsev, the Iceman, brooding under a polished veneer; Captain Chiharu Yoshida, a dilettante in a trade that rewarded cold, hard professionals; Sanmartin, pallid and ill at ease; the Hangman, skeletal Paul Henke.
Haijalo reached down and turned on his magic map. “Corvette Achilles has given us three mapping passes over Akashi Continent. Akashi has been divided into 10,000-meter squares for plotting fire control. The battalion sergeant has the control key.” He colored a square in and narrowed the focus.
“Background. Once upon a time United Steel-Standard was chartered for this place. The only thing that would bring somebody like USS to a pigpen this far out is fusion metals, and that’s what’s here. USS tried to work the mines with temporaries and settle the soil with deadheads.”
He paused to refresh himself from a mug of tea gone cold. “That didn’t work,” he said presently, wiping his mouth, “so they got cute and brought in the Afrikaners, the Boers. After falling out with the Boers, USS filled the southern part of Akashi with graziers, they call them ranchers or cowboys. Then they helped the ranchers import mercenaries so the ranchers could feud with the Boers and each other. USS lost control. That was six yea
rs ago local, and before that USS was giving guns to at least three or four sides. USS went crawling to the Diet, the Diet tapped us.
“Objectives. The spaceport where we come down is here, up near where the Blood River joins the Vaal. Twenty kilometers north is the first of three sets of hills, from south to north the Drakensberg, Stormberg, and Suurberg ranges. The easternmost extension of the Drakensbergs juts into the sea as the Cap Paarl peninsula.”
He lit up the middle of the peninsula. “The main USS manufacturing complex is located here on a spur off the main Johannesburg-Pretoria road. Seven kilometers offshore is an ocean tap that uses the deep-water temperature differential to produce electricity for everything and everybody. These are our two first-day objectives. We want them intact, especially the ftiel-alcohol farm separately housed on the south side of Complex. Otherwise we walk a lot.”
He waved his hand, and three large green blotches appeared on the map. “Our three second-day objectives are main Afrikaner population centers. Pretoria is where Complex workers reside, eleven kilometers southwest of Complex on the alluvial plain. Johannesburg is where the mining operations are run, northwest in the middle Drakensbergs. Bloemfontein is west in the altiplano. Farming communities radiate from there like spokes all through the Highveld. The riverport, Kaapstad am Vaal, is somebody else’s problem.” Harjalo highlighted the areas in a deep emerald to illustrate his points.
Yoshida shifted his feet. Despite the constant hum of the engines, the slight noise was unsettling. Haijalo looked at him sharply. Yoshida’s expression didn’t change, but the back of his neck turned very red.
"We do not intend to sit around and wait for day two to roll around,” Haijalo said flatly, turning his back to Yoshida.
“Day three?” Yevtushenko asked.
Haijalo snorted. “Who knows? We wait until Brigade figures out what they want. We’ll document some civilians and do weapons control. There are communities and individual farms all over the potato patch, along the Oranje River and its tributaries, up into the Karoo, but nobody’s been silly enough to identify these as mission objectives.” He lit the map up in a rash of green. “When things get dull, Lieutenant Reinikka’s engineers and I will graciously give Piotr’s number three platoon a rematch.”
Robert Frezza - [Colonial War 01] Page 2