“We are living through turbulent times, and at such times it can be difficult to see things clearly and understand what is really happening. Mars is now an independent planet. That is a plain fact, and will not change. It will take some time for our former colonial masters to come to terms with that fact, and until then they may view some of our actions through a distorting lens, seeing them very differently to how they actually are. We are not asking you to become traitors to the country to which you have sworn an oath. We have dissolved your unit. We do not regard you as an alien or enemy force. For us, you are welcome guests on our planet. As part of our courtesy towards you, we offer you the opportunity to join with us and help us forge the MSS.”
Gibbs glanced to the microphone hanging from a hook next to the window. It was connected to loudhailers on the roof of her office. She thought about grabbing it and screaming, ‘If any one of you dog-faces steps forward I’ll have you thrown in the stockade and court-martialled to within an inch of your lives.’ But then she thought about the conversation she’d had with Foveaux and knew she couldn’t afford to antagonise the Martians. On top of that, the troops hadn’t even got round to building the new stockade yet. Her hand physically twitched as she looked at the mic, but she let it go and carried on listening.
“If any of you would like to join us as officers of the MSS on pay equal to current MSS officers, please step forward now. We can take you immediately to the garrison - your old garrison - and induct you into our new service. If any of you would like further time to think this offer over you can contact either myself or Commissioner Foveaux for further details or for an informal chat. We will be leaving in the next thirty minutes. If any of you would like to come along with us please know that your help would be greatly appreciated. Thank you”
Schroeder dropped the loudhailer to his side and took a few steps until he was beside Foveaux. He leant in and spoke to her. Gibbs scanned the building site opposite. The men and women there had been working until five minutes ago, carrying, lifting and bolting. Now they had coalesced into little groups and seemed to be debating. She saw that some groups quickly finished their debate and went back to work, while others seemed to carry on discussing. In a couple of groups the discussion seemed quite heated, with fingers jabbing and wild gesticulation. She saw, in some places, her troops leave their work and disappear toward the region where their kit bags and equipment were temporarily stored.
It was ten very long minutes before the first of her troops ambled over to Assistant Commissioner Schroeder. The man had a kitbag slung over his shoulder and was carrying another bag in his right hand. As he reached Schroeder he dropped the bag and thrust his hand forward, shaking Schroeder’s hand vigorously. He had a broad smile on his face and she could see them exchange a few pleasant words. As they finished up Schroeder grabbed the man’s upper arm, and patted it twice. The man then walked over to the transport. Looking up Gibbs could see another couple of troops walking from the storage area, and behind them one more. Behind him there were at least half a dozen rummaging amongst the kit bags.
There was a knock at the open door. Foveaux looked up. It was Schroeder. “Come in,” she said, “sit down.”
Schroeder came into the room and walked over to the chair in front of Foveaux’s desk. He sat down as requested.
Foveaux was engrossed in her terminal. “I’ll be with you in a second, I just need to finish this up,” she said.
Schroeder glanced around the room as he waited. It was still not familiar to him.
“Okay,” said Foveaux, looking up, “how many did we get in the end?”
“Seventeen. Not bad, from two hundred. I’m surprised we got even that.”
“That’s great. Obviously, I need thorough background checks and ongoing monitoring on anyone who comes to us from the USAN. But these first seventeen are our bankers. They’ve made this decision quickly; no one made it for them. These are the ones we can trust. Any that come over in the next few days or weeks may be sent as double agents. They’re the ones we’ll really need to keep an eye on.”
“Of course. We’ve done background and personnel checks on the ones we have and we’ll be doing psych evaluations later today.”
“Good. I want these people distributed around the service as much as possible. We don’t need any factionalism. Also, we want to get the greatest benefit we can from their experience. They might be able to help with the training, too. The kit we’ve been supplied with is fundamentally upgraded USAN stuff, so they should be familiar with it. How’s the training going?”
“It’s going very well. The IVRs are extremely accurate and the live training is good, too.”
“Good. And the new accommodation?”
“No problems. The kitchen staff are unhappy about the state of the cookers; that’s about it.”
“Okay, I’ll see if Venkdt has any kitchen equipment we can have. But that’s it? No other problems?”
“None I can think of. We’re getting the field artillery and troop carriers soon, right?”
“Should be in the next couple of weeks or so. I’ll contact Kostovich and see where we are on that.”
“For now, you want us to carry on with the training?”
“Yes, training is the number one priority. Get the most senior USAN trooper to come over and find out how they did their policing. At the moment we’re just muddling through. We really need to firm that up; patrols maybe, and certainly a central control and dispatch office. Find out what they did and start doing it.”
“Yes, Commissioner. Anything else?”
“Yes, there is one more thing.” She rose from her chair and stepped to the window. She pointed to the fresh plaster on a patch of wall there. “See this?” she said. “This is a repair. As you can see, it’s not finished. I want to make sure that it doesn’t get finished. In fact, if it’s possible I’d like this new plaster to be dug back out.”
Schroeder kept a poker face. “Yes, Commissioner,” he said.
Foveaux felt compelled to explain. “The bullet that made this hole skimmed my head on its way there. It should have ended up here,” she pointed between her eyes, “rather than there. I’d like that hole there to remind me two things about this job. One is that, in the broader scheme of things, we’re not here by popular consent; it was by struggle and force of will that we got here.”
“And the other?”
“Well, the other is the most important thing we should all try to keep in mind; that due to the nature of our role there will always be people around who want to kill us.”
C H A P T E R 1 8
Robust Diplomacy
Farrell had his intelligence teams do a thorough job on Anthony Karjalainen. Anthony had never stepped out from his father’s shadow. As the younger son he had always been the apple of his father’s eye. Where Bobby had been boisterous and cheeky, Anthony had always managed to do the right thing. He was the boy who would tidy up his toys, rather than leave them scattered about the living room. He would get up on time, where Bobby might laze in his bed until he was good and ready. Bobby’s school reports would often mention how he had great ability but didn’t apply it. Anthony’s ability was less but his application was unquestioned.
He had left school early and gone straight into the family firm. His record was unremarkable and it seemed to the analysts that his meteoric rise through the company could not be justified by his actions alone. It was his name that had got him close to the top.
Anthony rarely demonstrated original thought. He took on the ideas around him. His father loved to use him as a sounding board. Anthony could make suggestions which appeared insightful but were in fact superficial. It made it seem like he was applying a critical eye to the ideas that Jack Karjalainen was bouncing off him, when in fact he was just giving back uncritical approval. Jack had managed to kid himself that Anthony had a sharp mind. That opinion was a product of his own arrogance. Because Anthony appeared to think what Jack did, Jack took that as a sign of Anthony’s
great mental faculties rather than what it was; a product of the lack of them.
Consequently, he had risen to a senior role in Hjälp Teknik very quickly despite his mediocre abilities and tender age. This flagged him as an ideal candidate to the USAN intelligence analysts. He was senior, respected and had a veneer of intelligence, but he was also shallow and unimaginative. Exactly what they would need for their puppet government. They wanted to maintain what had hitherto been the status quo, and someone like Anthony Karjalainen, who was conservative and dull-witted by nature, was ideal for them.
They had pulled up a few other potential candidates, all senior managers at Hjälp Teknik, and had done thorough analyses. These people were the reserves, though. Anthony Karjalainen was the prime candidate. Not only did his personality match their ideal profile but his name carried weight on Mars, particularly amongst the limited band of loyalists.
Farrell took the report to Cortes. “I think he’s our man,” he said. “If you don’t have time to read the report I’ll summarise it for you; he’s senior, people respect his name, he is very resistant to change and he’s also his father’s son. His father was the only prominent Martian to speak out against independence. If it came to it he would make a credible political leader for us.”
Cortes laid his copy of the report on the table in front of them. “This is good work,” he said. “Have you approached him on any of this?”
“No Mr President, we haven’t made any approach as yet.”
“Okay, is there any way we can make a soft approach? Have someone sound him out in person?”
“We don’t have anyone on Mars who could do that for us. We could approach him through coms systems but, of course, we might be vulnerable to interceptions.”
“Of course,” said Cortes. “Are our lines insecure?”
“We don’t know for sure but out of an abundance of caution we have to assume so. We had a highly secured encrypted line into the garrison, but the garrison is no longer in our hands.”
“So how do we approach him?”
“I’m thinking through Colonel Shaw. Her comdev has military grade hardware encryption codecs by default. She is under house arrest but she still has her comdev. We are in daily communication with her.”
“So we can get to Karjalainen through her, somehow?”
“I think so. The house arrest is pretty slack. She’s allowed visitors. If we communicate the information to her she can select a trusted visitor and pass the information on to them. They would be the intermediary between her and Karjalainen, and we have direct secure access to her.”
“That’s great, Farrell,” said Cortes. “So we still have some sort of a foothold on that damned planet, however small.”
“We do, sir.”
“When are you going to put this into action?”
“Well, we’re still months away from having the Aloadae in orbit. That’s when our hand really gets strengthened. I would advise holding off until then. The intelligence indicates that Anthony Karjalainen will be receptive to our suggestions. But if we wait until nearer the time there’s less chance for him to waver or be compromised.”
“Okay. What happens if Colonel Shaw is compromised in the meantime? What if they realise her comdev isn’t standard issue?”
Farrell frowned. “I guess that’s a risk we have to take. Colonel Shaw is a good officer, we know we can trust her. Karjalainen seems like a great option, but he’s still something of an unknown. On balance, I think it would be better to wait.”
“Okay, we wait. When the Aloadae are in position we can get our proposal to Karjalainen, and he can start making noises on our behalf.”
“That’s exactly the plan, Mr President.”
“Great, thank you,” said Cortes, standing up. He shook Farrell’s hand and returned to his desk.
Andrews had indeed, as predicted by Rawls, been shocked that the work on the Aloadae was proceeding according to schedule. It was common knowledge that defence contracts ran way over time and way over budget. Winning a defence contract was similar in some ways to winning the lottery. The main difference was that the payout from the lottery remained fixed. With defence contracts the bottom line could keep growing and growing. Once the client was on the hook for billions of dollars it was difficult to walk away. If another few hundred million were needed that might seem a small price to pay given what had already been invested. And so it went on. Budgets snowballed, projects mutated and the money kept flowing from the public coffers.
This case seemed to be an anomaly. Everything was proceeding as planned. Helios was hitting milestones with unerring accuracy. Deliverables were being delivered on or before the dates projected. It seemed miraculous.
Andrews had known of Askel Lund’s work before, but she had paid little attention. Back then she had been focused on the biggest war in generations. Now her focus was taken up with this small potential war. Lund, it appeared, was able to work miracles. Twelve weeks ago the idea of getting the Aloadae into Martian orbit within half a year seemed fanciful. Politically useful, on paper, but unlikely to become a practical reality. Now she was looking at reports suggesting that the two vessels would be ready to ship out within the next four weeks.
She watched as Cortes skimmed the conclusion of the report. He took his glasses off and looked at her. “I’m very impressed,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr President,” said Andrews.
“Have Helios ever come in on time and on budget before?”
“I don’t think they have, Mr President. And as yet, they still haven’t. Let’s not put a hex on it.”
Cortes laughed. “Quite,” he said. “But seriously, it looks like we’re going to be on schedule with this?”
“It does, sir. The commanders have been training extensively for Martian environments. They’re working on scenarios similar to those we discussed previously. They will be able to take the necessary facilities by force, should it come to it. They’re being shipped up to the Aloadae this weekend. As soon as the final works and testing are finished in the next few weeks they will be ready to leave immediately.”
“This is terrific. I can’t quite believe you’ve managed to pull it off.”
“Thank you, sir. I can’t quite believe it myself. Helios’ lead on this project is a woman called Askel Lund. She seems to be quite the miracle worker.”
Cortes nodded. “Could you arrange for a note of my personal thanks to be sent to her?”
“Of course, Mr President, I’ll organise that right away.”
“Thank you, Audrey. Secretary Farrell is making good headway with the diplomatic plans. I feel that we have a strong two-pronged approach to this problem. Farrell has diplomatic backdoors which sound extremely promising. When we get these two ships in orbit we will really have something to work with. We’ll be flanking them from both sides, and of course we’ll look strong. You’ve done great work, you and Farrell. It’s important that we are seen to be the superpower that we are. These are very uncertain times. Any weakness we project will be seized upon by our enemies. As you know, we didn’t manage to get quite the peace we wanted. I want our enemies to see that we are strong and decisive. You’re helping me to deliver on that, so once again I thank you.”
“Thank you, Mr President. I’ll see that you’re kept up-to-date daily on the developments.” Andrews stood up and left.
White didn’t really have much of a stomach for burgers but this place was something of a favourite for Sherman and he often suggested it. White’s Secret Service detail were familiar with it, and were happy to remain on guard outside.
White took his seat and ordered a hamburger and fries with a cola. Sherman picked something more elaborate, with a side of deep-fried Monterey Jack cheese. White hid his mild disgust at the fatty order. He noted that Sherman had also ordered a non-lite soda. It was these little things that made him uneasy about Sherman. He knew, of course, that Sherman lived in a shady underworld but things like his poor diet seemed to advertise it unnecess
arily. He put all that to one side and tried to remain civil. “So our man’s being shipped up this weekend. He’s fully briefed, I take it?”
“Of course,” said Sherman, “he wouldn’t be much use if he wasn’t.”
White smiled. “And we can contact him once aboard, if necessary?”
“If strictly necessary we can do that, but each time you open a channel of communication it makes us vulnerable. Those ships are state-of-the-art military, so who knows what type of electronic defences and decryption systems they have aboard? As far as we know we have a secure channel in, but let’s not use it if we don’t have to. The mission parameters are pretty clear; disrupt, delay, harass. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is. I just want to know that we have lines of communication should anything change.”
Sherman took a big bite from his cheeseburger and chewed a bit before answering. “You have that, if you really need it, but it would be in your best interests to not need it.”
“I understand,” said White.
“Are we done here?” said Sherman.
“I guess so,” said White. “You know we had a meeting the other day, a very high level meeting with the president and defence and foreign secretaries. They said that all of this is just a show of force. They said it’s part of the diplomatic process, but I don’t know. It all sounded very hawkish to me. They’ve made very clear military plans to attack the Martians with those ships. If they do that it would be an absolute catastrophe. We can’t let that happen. We’ve just spent seven years pissing away trillions of dollars and hundreds of lives - hell, millions of lives, if you count the enemy losses - on a war that achieved just about nothing, and now the president seems to want to go through the whole process again, only this time more expensive and further away.”
Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) Page 28