Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1)

by Parker, Gavin E

  The crowd erupted, and Venkdt held two hands aloft in salute to them, turning from side to side, working the crowd. After a few minutes of accepting their cheers he walked back into the wings. Christina turned him around and pushed him back out. The crowd went wild as he walked back onto the stage, smiling and waving. He did the point and chat shtick again, but he was very careful to not overdo it. Eventually, the crowd let him leave.

  “How was I?” he said to Christina as she handed him a towel to wipe his sweaty face.

  “You did good,” said Christina. “Listen to the crowd.”

  Venkdt listened to the crowd, and smiled.

  Venkdt’s opposition had all been minnows. His name, in truth, was the only one on the ballot that most people had heard of. In a way, for many years, he had been the unofficial mayor of Mars anyway. He had been a benevolent boss to most people at Venkdt and had presided over huge expansion of the company’s operation on Mars. His closest rival had been a popular streamer whose manifesto was a teenager’s fantasy and clearly not to be taken seriously.

  When the result came in shortly after 22:00 on election day Christina bundled a reluctant Venkdt down to the transport bay of Venkdt Mars Corp and had him say a few words to the crowd there. He was gracious, thanking them as he always did and reiterating his immediate plans, the most significant of which was the buyout of the Martian arm of Venkdt.

  As they were walking back to his office after the impromptu speech Christina said, “Great speech, Mr President,” with a mile-wide grin.

  “It was, too, wasn’t it?” said Venkdt in return. He smiled at her and ruffled her hair.

  Back at his office he slumped into his chair and rubbed his chin. “I guess there’s work to be done,” he said. He’d had his legal people working on the buyout, but they had made little headway. The parent company was resistant to any buyout, flatly refusing its legitimacy and threatening all sorts of legal actions. Venkdt had his legal people working on it round the clock but as a backup he also had Kostovich involved. Kostovich’s knowledge of software systems and encryption could be put to use if necessary in forcing payment on the Venkdt parent company. As Venkdt saw it he could dump the money in their accounts and that would be the end of it, despite any complaints they might have. He’d rather do it the legal way, with mutual consent, but he knew it was worth having alternate strategies to fall back on. It was that sort of thinking which had made him an effective business leader and, he hoped, would make him an effective president.

  The buyout was a priority. He had a mandate from the people and this had been one of the major planks of his manifesto. He decided it had to happen within the week. He fired off messages to his legal team requesting they make it happen. If necessary, they were to give the parent company an ultimatum. He sent a message to Kostovich, too. He was to prepare to pump the money into the Venkdt parent company’s accounts using his software black magic should they refuse to accept the money by any other means. He was to liaise with Venkdt’s legal team. Either way, with their agreement or without it, the Venkdt parent company was going to be paid off for their Martian operation within one week. Shortly after that Charles Venkdt would resign his position with immediate effect and take an oath swearing him in as the first president of Mars.

  “If there’s anything I can help you with just let me know,” said Christina.

  “I’ve taken up far too much of your valuable time already,” said Venkdt, “and I’m incredibly grateful for it.”

  “It’s okay, Dad,” said Christina. “What are you going to do now?”

  Venkdt leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to finish up a few loose ends here. Take maybe a week or so, then I’m going to resign and take up the presidency.” He smiled at his words and enjoyed them so much he said them again. “Take up the presidency.”

  Christina smiled too. “That’s good,” she said. “You deserve it.”

  Venkdt beamed.

  “You’re going to buy Mars back from Earth, is that right?” said Christina.

  “Well,” said Venkdt, “we’re going to buy all of Venkdt Mars from Venkdt Corp. The independent businesses are all Martian anyway. I guess Hjälp Teknik is a largely Martian enterprise, although they are traded on the New York Stock Exchange. What they do is their business. I guess foreign investment could be good for our new economy.”

  “And Venkdt are happy to sell?”

  Venkdt frowned. “Probably not. But we’ll be buying them out anyway, a sort of compulsory purchase. Ruffled feathers in the short term. In twenty years everyone will have forgotten about it.”

  “It’s going to be good, Dad,” said Christina.

  “I think so,” Venkdt replied.

  Venkdt met with Foveaux in the morning.

  “Congratulations, Mr President,” said Foveaux.

  “Thank you,” said Venkdt. “Please, call me Charles for now. I wanted to speak to you today with both hats on. I’m still chief executive officer here at Venkdt at the moment and I want to go over these plans for setting up the police force and military. It kind of crosses over into my new role as president, so to avoid confusion and just for now, please call me Charles. Do you mind if I call you Maya?

  “Not at all.”

  “Good, good, then let’s begin. Now, I asked you about splitting Venkdt Security. I know that you’ve been overstaffed, if anything, for the last few years so I guessed it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “It won’t be,” said Maya. “I sent you a copy of my proposals, did you read them?”

  “I glanced through them. They looked good.”

  “They are good. When would you like to put them into effect?”

  “Well,” said Venkdt, “I’d say do it as soon as possible.”

  “Okay,” said Maya, “I’ll get onto it right away.”

  “You don’t expect any difficulties?”

  “I don’t. I’ll be taking volunteers from Venkdt Security and from the police service at the garrison. Man management may be an issue but I’ve got some very good people to soothe any bruised egos. It’s change. Nobody likes change, but I’m sure we can get it done smoothly and quickly.”

  “That’s good,” said Venkdt, “I think you can too. I’ve been speaking to Daniel Kostovich - do you know him?”

  “I’ve heard the name.”

  “He’s been working on some equipment that might be of use to you. It’s more military stuff than anything but if you introduce the new uniforms with body armour and the like it might distract your people from the changes going on. You know, the new uniforms being from necessity and not part of some clever psychological ruse to mould them into a new unit,” said Venkdt, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I see. Does he have this equipment already?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been working on it for the last few weeks. I’ll send you his details. You two should get together and talk it over.”

  “I’m not sure what our needs are going to be. The policing role has to be the priority. I might hold back on the military part, initially. It’s going to be symbolic anyway, right? Providing an honour guard at state occasions and that sort of thing. I think we need to concentrate on our immediate practical needs right now. It’s not like we have any enemies, is it?”

  “Well,” said Venkdt, “yes and no. The main focus of your security force will be policing. That’s what you will be doing, offering a police service to the Martian population when the garrison pulls out. But we do need a military, for psychological reasons if nothing else.” He wasn’t sure if he should mention the missile systems that Kostovich was building, and the reason he was building them. Since they would ultimately need some sort of military oversight and support he decided to come clean. “I guess you’re right. It would make sense to just have one service initially but . . .”

  “But what?” said Maya.

  “The USAN are talking about sending ships here.”

  “Sending ships?” said Maya, genuinely thrown.

  “Military shi
ps,” said Venkdt. “This is very highly classified information at this time. Don’t worry, it’s all for show. But we have to bluff them right back, so we need our military to be something a bit more substantial than we might have preferred.”

  “I see,” said Maya. Her mind was whirring with the implications, but she kept a calm exterior.

  “There will be courts soon, too,” said Venkdt. “When the garrison goes we’ll build some new courthouses. No more shipping the serious cases back to Earth.”

  “That’s great,” said Maya.

  “About the garrison,” said Venkdt.

  “Yes?”

  “We’ll need to deal with them.”

  Foveaux looked into Venkdt’s eyes for additional clues as to what he meant, but found none.

  “How would you like me to deal with them?” she said, cautiously.

  “Well,” said Venkdt, “I guess that’s down to you. But they’re over there, disloyal to the new regime, and they have arms. I don’t expect them to do anything but it would be good to have them thoroughly neutralized.” Venkdt belatedly heard the words he was saying. “Oh! I don’t mean anything like that. But surely you could use the building, couldn’t you? And it would be good to have them separated from their firepower. There are plenty of places we could billet them for the next couple of years or so before we can get them shipped back home.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” said Maya. Her mind was already forming strategies.

  “And you can start all this now?” said Venkdt.

  “We can,” said Maya. “We’ve always had a good relationship with the garrison, I’m sure it won’t be a problem”

  Venkdt offered his hand. “That’s great, Maya, I knew I could rely on you.”

  “Of course you can, Mr President.”

  C H A P T E R 1 4

  The Garrison

  Since its inception the USAN garrison on Mars had taken the role of a de facto police force. There was no need for a military presence on Mars. There were no human enemies capable of reaching the planet and there were no alien races threatening the human outpost there. The purpose of the garrison was symbolic. A great nation had to show it was prepared to defend its territory. There were approximately two hundred USAN Army personnel stationed at the garrison. They had naturally fallen to the role of police force.

  When the research station finally closed down and handed over to the military Venkdt Mars had only a few thousand employees, mostly handpicked and highly trained. Police services were rarely needed. Petty crimes and minor complaints were dealt with internally. Most assaults and other violent crimes, serious thefts and burglaries were again subject to internal review. Where credible evidence could be gathered the accused would be sent back to Earth to be processed through the criminal courts there. With the advent of the military police it was possible to process all but the most serious crimes on Mars itself. The garrison housed a court and also had a stockade, where short and medium term sentences could be served. Any criminals facing sentences longer than two or three years were almost always sent back to Earth, depending on the proximity of launch windows.

  Crime levels on Mars were remarkably low. The garrison kept order well but as the population had grown it had proved difficult for the garrison to keep pace with it. In truth, Mars had been under policed for a number of years and the judicial system applied there was shaky and provisional.

  Maya’s plan involved volunteers from her security division running the military-police force from the garrison. She hoped to co-opt as many members of the garrison’s personnel as possible and meld the two groups into a new unit. She had permission and finances from Venkdt to expand the garrison, adding room for more personnel and a larger stockade. She also planned for there to be a second smaller base in Allentown West, away from the centre of the city. There was a Venkdt Security building there already. She would expand out of that.

  One of Maya’s great gifts was her ability to delegate. That would be crucial in overseeing a rapidly expanding service. She knew how to select people with leadership qualities; level-headed, unshakeable, determined good delegators like herself. She already had a few in mind, and hoped to pick up some more from the garrison.

  Garrison personnel usually served terms in multiples of two Earth years. Rotation levels were high, multiple terms being served mostly by the higher ranking. Maya wasn’t sure what their attitude would be towards Martian independence. They were the only people on Mars with a sworn allegiance to serve the USAN, and who took their pay cheques directly from the home planet. Accepting Martian independence was a far more complex issue for them. They were not Martians.

  Maya was confident that the higher ranking officers at the garrison and their superiors on Earth wouldn’t be so stupid as to try to use the power they had at their disposal to attempt to quell the independence movement by force of arms. They were unlikely to pose any difficulties from that angle. What they might do was sit tight and refuse to enter into any form of dialogue. That posed a problem for Maya in that she needed their building. If some of their number joined her new police force, helping to cement the broad coalition that Venkdt was trying to build into every element of Martian civil society, that would be a bonus, but she had to have the physical garrison complex.

  As well as denying the rump of the USAN force home-field advantage she wanted them separated from their armoury and communications centre. She also wanted them away from the centre of the city. Left alone with their arms and coms, and with nothing to do for two years while they waited for the launch window that would take them back home, Maya worried that they might turn to suppressing the new Martian government out of sheer boredom.

  At this early stage, with the disorienting shock of rapid change still in effect, Maya hoped to evict the USAN force by negotiated settlement rather than under duress. She had had some dealings with Colonel Shaw in the past and hoped they might be able to come to some sort of agreement.

  Maya sat at her desk looking at her terminal. She could call Colonel Shaw now and put her proposal to her, even send over some of the documentation she had prepared. It seemed reasonable, but something was staying Maya’s hand. She tried to rationalise what it might be. All she could come up with was this: Colonel Katrina Shaw was, like herself, a woman of action. Obviously, she hadn’t joined the military to sit behind her desk answering messages from across town. What a woman like Shaw would respond to was a physical presence. Maya knew she would have to play this with caution - there was absolutely no point in needlessly antagonising someone who she needed as an ally, or at very least a neutral.

  She decided, after thinking very carefully, that she would take three dozen of the volunteers for the new military-police force over to the garrison and chat with Colonel Shaw woman to woman. She was sure the colonel would not concede any ground whatsoever. She decided she would be blunt about her demands but courteous and understanding of the colonel’s position. All the while she wanted the colonel to be aware that she too had a force of physically able people behind her.

  In the spirit of immediacy that was current amongst the people of Mars Maya decided she would gather together the force of thirty-six personnel she thought she needed and head over to the garrison right then. She looked at her terminal. It was not long before 21:30. In her mind she ran over what she needed to do and how long it might take. Getting the word out to the people she needed, organising transport, briefing her people and taking the ride over there might take, in total, about two and a half hours. She gently chuckled to herself and shook her head. There was a good chance that by the time she was having her head-to-head with Colonel Katrina Shaw of the USAN Martian Garrison it would be close to midnight.

  “Yes!?” The tone was exasperated, frustrated and irritated.

  “It’s Foveaux. I need three transports and arms for around forty officers. Can you do that?”

  The voice at the other end of the line quickly changed and panickingly replied, “Ms Foveaux? Yes, we have three transpo
rts here. What arms do you need?”

  “What do you have? Rifles maybe? Side arms?”

  The voice paused in thought. “We can do the side arms, I don’t think we have that many rifles. And we’ll need authorisation.”

  “You have the authorisation, I’m sending it now. How many rifles do you have?”

  “I think . . . sixteen, maybe?”

  “Okay, we’ll take them all. How about body armour, helmets?”

  “We have some. We have the riot suits.”

  “Good. I’ll be sending some officers down soon. I want them kitted out with as much riot gear as we have. Everyone gets a side arm, everyone who gets a rifle is assigned to the first transport. Second transport is the remaining rifles and the third is side arms only.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want this to be ready when I get there. I’ll be there within the hour.”

  Maya hung up and immediately made her next call. She worked her way through three senior officers, telling them essentially the same thing; they needed to gather a dozen or so of their people and meet her in the transport bay within the hour. Officers could be pulled off non-essential duties, given overtime or even be called at home. She needed the bodies and she needed them fast.

  When she’d finished with the calls Maya made her way down to the quartermaster’s office. It was located above the transport bay and shared many of its facilities. She approached the desk. “I want full body armour and a rifle. I need a tactical helmet, too. One of the newer ones with the flip-up fronts?”

  The woman at the desk was servile and efficient. “Yes, sir,” she said, and scampered away from the desk to find the items requested. Maya walked to the window overlooking the transport bay. Directly below her were three transports with a handful of officers mingling about them. As she watched more joined. Some were clambering into the armour they had just picked up, or were checking their rifles.