by John Dalmas
"And so I would be, Your Reverence. But my interests are diverse, and I still have business here in the capital before I leave. Some of it with you."
"Oh?"
"Your Reverence, there is something I think you should know. You're aware, of course, that Alb Jilsomo presented a first cost estimate for restoring the palace and the other government buildings damaged. And proposed an appropriation to finance it, compensation to be taken from the officers involved, and their families as appropriate."
"Including Rothka's estate. Yes. And the final act of the Diet was to approve it unanimously. Jilsomo told me."
"Correct." He looked briefly at the kalifa before he continued. "I also wish to express my profound sympathy for the pain and loss which you and the kalifa have suffered."
"Thank you, friend Agros." The Kalif thought to add that there were those who'd lost more, but he kept the thought to himself. Losing the fetus had been hard, especially on Tain, and Agros had seemed honest in his sentiment.
There was an awkward moment then, as if Agros had more to say, something which didn't come easily. "One other thing, Your Reverence. The House has developed a somewhat different, a considerably more favorable attitude toward your invasion plans. A change contributed to by the industrial faction, the lesser nobility, and the labor unrest that has grown even more troublesome since the attack on the Sreegana. I believe you'll find the House much more amenable to productive negotiation when the Diet reconvenes."
The Kalif's eyebrows rose. "Indeed? That's something Jilsomo had mentioned as a possibility, but coming from you, it seems like something more."
"I believe Your Reverence can count on it."
"Umm. Tell me. Confidentially. Did the-military have any influence on this change of attitude?"
The nobleman waited a long and pregnant moment, then answered. "A most puissant influence, Your Reverence."
"I wouldn't wonder. Well, I dare say I brought this on us myself." He sighed audibly, then surprisingly grinned. "Friend Agros, I recommend that you feel at ease with the situation. I have no doubt it will work out well for the empire and the estates. All of the estates."
***
When Agros had gone, the Kalif turned to the kalifa. She looked troubled. He wasn't surprised, considering what she'd just heard.
"So there will be an invasion," she said thoughtfully, then looked up at him. "Coso, what does puissant mean?"
He smiled wryly. "Agros was telling me that the military are a major cause of their changed attitude. Perhaps the major cause. The House is afraid of the army."
He paused, pursed his lips, then smiled again, his eyes intent on her. "My dear, we have things to talk about, you and I. About a suggestion you once made, a question you asked. I think there's a way."
Sixty-one
Their return from the hospital was the occasion for a parade second only to the one on Prophet's Day. But quite different; this one was largely military. The Imperial Guard, now a short battalion in numbers, led off in the place of honor, followed by the survivors of the 1st Battalion of the 1st Infantry Regiment, and the 27th Armored Battalion-the units that had defeated the coup attempt. Other units of the Capital Division followed, interspersed with fraternal groups, sports groups, and military units flown in for the event. Their bands played, instruments flashing in the morning sun. Flights of gunships passed over, one after another, preceded by their shadows.
The crowds weren't put off a bit by the armed might. They cheered each unit, each band, each massive mobile fort. And most loudly, they cheered as their Kalif and kalifa rode by in an open limousine.
The Kalif was bemused by it. He couldn't for the life of him see why they cheered him so. He was quite sure, though, that it wasn't the admiral they cheered. Admiral Siilakamasu, the Deputy Chief of Staff, rode with the royal couple, in the seat behind the Kalif.
Leaning forward, the admiral tapped the Kalif's shoulder, a presumptuous thing to do. But he did it gracefully. "Your Reverence," he said grinning, "the people like you."
The Kalif glanced back over his shoulder. "So it seems, Admiral. So it seems."
"I'd say the time is ripe for a speech to the empire. Perhaps this evening? Something brief that won't require much preparation. About the invasion, and what it can mean to the empire and the people."
Turning, the Kalif met his eyes and held them, but not in challenge. "I plan to talk to the cameras tomorrow, when I decorate the heroes. I'll talk about loyalty and heroism. And afterward about other things. Something about a revival of shipbuilding, I think, and strengthening the armed forces."
Jilsomo was sitting beside the admiral, listening, watching the interplay between the two. He was aware that the Kalif didn't like the invasion mentioned in front of the kalifa, and when the admiral brought it up, the exarch's eyes moved to her. She seemed undisturbed by the subject today, as if she'd grown resigned to the idea.
***
The royal couple moved into a building bought by the government only two blocks from the square, where they occupied a large and luxurious apartment; the rest of the building was given over to offices and other staff facilities for the Prelacy. After a late and private lunch, the Kalif had himself delivered to the Sreegana, where he walked slowly across the quadrangle, accompanied by two guardsmen. The gutted remains of the palace had already been knocked down, and the site leveled. Engineers were there with instruments on tripods, and assistants driving stakes.
He found the sight depressing, though less so, he thought, than the gutted wreckage would have been. But he hadn't come there to visit ghosts or the reconstruction work. He'd come to ask questions.
Of SUMBAA. When he got to SUMBAA's house, he checked in with Dr. Gopalasentu, and left bodyguards and doctor in the corridor outside SUMBAA's chamber. The blood had been scrubbed from the floor-his blood and Yab's and the rebel sergeant's.
It seemed to him that SUMBAA had been waiting for him. "Good afternoon, Your Reverence," it said when he'd made his presence known. He suspected that SUMBAA had known already.
"Good afternoon, SUMBAA," he answered. "I saw you kill three rebel soldiers. I didn't know you could do that."
"It is my responsibility to serve the welfare of humankind. As you know. Thus I long ago equipped myself for protection. The three rebel soldiers had shot your guard. Presumably they would have shot you when they saw you. I prevented that."
The answer was about what the Kalif had expected. "Do you consider, then, that my survival is significant to the welfare of humankind?"
"That is my projection. It is not as firm a projection as many, but it is my best projection, given the data available."
"Hmm." He examined SUMBAA's statement and came up with nothing he could make much of. "The last time we talked," he said, "you provided me with plans and evaluations for an invasion of the Confederation. Since then a lot has happened that may influence those plans, and I have some new considerations, new requirements, that are certain to. When I've described these new features to you, I want you to give me a new set of plans. And the same sort of evaluations that you gave me before."
"Very well, Your Reverence. When you are ready, we can begin."
***
When they were done, he put the stack of printouts in his briefcase. He'd look at it when he got home. This time, leaving a conference with SUMBAA, he didn't feel uncomfortable. Not a bit.
Sixty-two
As Primate of Varatos, Elder Dosu was responsible for the pastorates of the entire planet. He and his staff occupied a large building only ten minutes' walk from the Hall of the Estates and the Kalif's temporary lodgings-two minutes by hovercar. With his duties in the Diet, Dosu had long ago learned to delegate much of his planet-wide inspection load, and with increasing age, he'd come to travel relatively little, even when the Diet was not in session. So he was at hand and available when he got the Kalif's request for a meeting.
The Kalif's temporary residence also had a roof garden, and the weather being pleasant, they met
there. As courtesy directed, for a one-on-one meeting of this sort, the Kalif didn't at once bring up the subject he wished to talk about. Instead he said casually, "I'm told the Pastorate has begun its campaign to gain voting power."
"Indeed it has, Your Reverence. And been scathing those who'd use arms to overthrow the kalifate. But I must say that few pastors have seen fit to speak for your invasion proposal, despite your championing of our estate. And I cannot in good conscience urge them to, let alone order it. On the other hand, few have attacked it; your support has bought you that much."
"Friend Dosu, I was not trying to buy their support, however it may have looked. Though obviously I'd welcome it. If I accomplish nothing more as Kalif than seeing the Pastorate a voting estate, I'll consider my reign more than a success. It will be a highlight in the history of the kalifate.
"Don't mistake me. It's not simply the good of the Pastorate I'm concerned with. I consider this to be one step, a major step, toward justice for all of Kargh's children. If I thought the Pastorate would use its votes only for its own benefit, I wouldn't have taken the trouble.
"On various occasions the Assembly of Elders has served as a voice for the gentry and peasants. And helped gain, for the gentry, certain opportunities. I assume you'll use your votes in the same cause. Eventually to gain the vote for the fourth and fifth estates as well."
The Elder nodded his skullcap of gray curls. "We dream partly the same dreams, Your Reverence."
"Which brings me to my other dream, friend Dosu. And my reason for calling you here. Are your seminaries full?"
The question took the Elder by surprise. "As full as we want them," he said. "In times like these, with so many gentry and lesser nobles hard pressed to feed and house themselves, the Pastorate has more applicants than posts to fill."
"And those you turn away-Are many of them inspired by a desire to serve the people? Or are they interested mainly in a place at the table, and a roof?"
"There are both kinds; I can only guess in what proportions. Roughly even, I suppose. We do our best to avoid the latter."
"I presume they're literate? And decently informed on The Book of The Prophet? And on history and government?"
Dosu frowned, wondering what the Kalif was getting at. "Literate, yes," he said. "As for informed-they're as informed as most of their estates. Well enough that those we take can be trained."
"So they're trainable. If there were posts for more of them-many more-would you have room and staff to train them? Say ten thousand of them?"
"Ten thousand? On Varatos?"
"Say on Varatos. Yes. But forgive me, friend Dosu. I shouldn't keep you in mystery. If the invasion is to spread the word of The Prophet as well as the rule of the empire, we need an army of pastors as well as one of soldiers. You see."
Dosu indeed saw, and wondered that he hadn't seen before. Probably, he decided, he hadn't taken seriously the Kalif's argument that spreading the worship of Kargh would be a major function of the invasion.
And while he'd prefer there be no invasion, if there was one-and it seemed there would be-then an army of pastors was an urgent need.
"Indeed I do see, Your Reverence."
***
They spent two hours together, the Kalif and the Elder, and when Dosu returned to his office, it was with a basic working plan sketched out, a plan to produce ten thousand pastors on Varatos, and another ten thousand total on the other worlds. Within eighteen months.
They'd even sketched out a curriculum. For the pastors from each world, it included developing fluency in the peasant jabber of that world, dialects only partly intelligible to many in the upper classes. Because, as the Kalif pointed out, the peasant troops could prove the key in relations with the people of the Confederacy. If their behavior was barbarous, they'd make enemies of the Confederation's people. Thus the pastors would have a function beyond propagation of the faith; they would educate the peasant troops and monitor and amend their behavior.
A pastoral army could be recruited and trained; the Elder had no doubt of it. Could and would be. And payment for it was not dependent on the Diet; it would come from ecclesiastical assessments collected by the Prelacy.
When he got back to his desk, Dosu began at once to draft a directive to the offices involved.
***
The Kalif felt a bit guilty. He had not been entirely honest with Elder Dosu. Not that he wanted to mislead or trick him. In fact, it seemed to him that Dosu would agree with his real intention at least as much as with the one he'd given. But secrecy was vital. He wouldn't even tell Jilsomo till the day of departure, or close to it. For now it was enough that SUMBAA knew, and Tain.
Sixty-three
On the second day of the Diet of 4725, the Kalif formally requested an invasion appropriation. It was not seriously resisted. The House felt pressure by the lesser nobility and also by the gentry. Further, no Kalif in modern times had been so popular with the people, and his provision for sending a pastoral army to convert the heathen made it easier-less embarrassing-for the noble delegates to give in. But the decisive factor was the officers' corps of the armed forces.
The General Staff had more misgivings about the Kalif's invasion budget than the Diet did. It seemed to them that a somewhat larger army and battle fleet could and should be built and sent, even at the cost of an additional year. Furthermore, in light of the combat experience on Terfreya, the emphasis on infantry seemed ill-advised to them; they wanted much more armor. They'd laid out their objections in a formal brief, with a proposed alternative, but the Kalif had made only small adjustments.
They backed away from a confrontation, though. The differences were a matter of degree, and the Kalif had already retired General Bavaralaama with minimal ceremony, for only mildly derogatory remarks made to staff officers at a meeting. This stiff action demonstrated the Kalif's growing power and confidence, fixing it in the command mind. Then he'd replaced Bavaralaama on the General Staff with Chesty Vrislakavaro, now a lieutenant general, a man very popular with the officer corps.
Vrislakavaro had previously replaced Songhidalarsa in command of 1st Corps. The formidable Iron Jaw resided in a high-security military prison in the Belt. His personal fortune, and a substantial part of his family's, had been eaten up by reconstruction, reparations to the families of casualties, and medical and pension funds for the disabled, including peasants.
The address in which the Kalif presented his formal appropriation request mentioned immigrant fleets, fleets for which he did not request an appropriation. These were to be built by the various planetary governments after the invasion fleet left. Some delegates to the House pointed out that to begin building immigrant fleets assumed that the invasion succeeded-that there were conquered worlds to migrate to. But suppose the invasion failed, that no planets were conquered? The money would have been wasted.
Suppose the invasion failed! Simply bringing up the possibility publicly caused a wave of misgivings about the entire invasion project, a wave that spread across the empire. But it was brief. The decisive argument was: "Better fight them there, with an advantage in arms, than here at a time of their choosing."
The after-effect was a lessening of euphoric optimism and an increase in determination.
Within months, on every world including Maolaari, there were camps busy training soldiers, marines, airmen, ships' crews. And schools training pastors-twice the 20,000 originally intended. Factories, and especially shipyards, were busy around the clock; work went on at a pace never seen before in the empire. Preparations took on a virtually unstoppable momentum. As often happens, abundant activity with results that could be seen-floater parks filling with new aircraft, starships taking shape in the yards, recruits becoming skilled and toughened, their units coordinated-gave rise to a new optimism, and a social order beyond any that had come before.
Favorable economic effects were not as great as had been hoped for, and there was considerable currency inflation. But still, the lot of the people was materi
ally better. And promised to continue being better after the armada left; construction of the immigrant fleets would see to that. These would begin with ships built to transport would-be brides, an immigration to begin as soon as word came that the army had procured a world or worlds to settle on.
The only real disorders were a flurry of wildcat strikes by gentry work supervisors and skilled gentry workmen, who wanted gentry delegates seated in the Diet. These work stoppages threatened to seriously hamper the invasion preparations, but they faded when the Kalif promised that the question would be discussed in public forums, something that had never happened before.
The empire would never be the same.
***
The Kalif asked Lord Roonoa not to bring up the legalization of loohio; he'd propose it himself, he said. And in mid-session he did. Conservative elements of the House, seeing an opportunity to assert themselves safely, resisted. Finally, with only two days left before the required vote, the Kalif amended the proposal: Any world would be free to reject the import of loohio on a vote by its own Diet. Elder Dosu objected strongly, arguing that it wasn't a matter of commerce or economics or political policy, but of religion-a command of The Prophet. Lord Roonoa and others, including delegates of several planets with critical population problems, answered with hard statistics. Alb Jilsomo pointed out that the Pastorate could always exhort its parishioners not to eat the fish.
The vote was twenty-four to twenty-one in favor of the proposal as amended, to go into effect in 4727. This date gave the Diets of the individual sultanates an opportunity to reject for their worlds before exportation began.