Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) (26 page)

“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.”

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 transports 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.

Two officers
arrived at the quartermaster’s desk behind her.

“Hello,” one
shouted, “we’re supposed to pick up some kit?  Special operation or
something?”

The
quartermaster’s assistant returned with Maya’s kit and placed it on the desk. 
“Hold your
comdevs
over here, please,” she said to
the two officers, “for sizes, etcetera.”

Maya took her
kit and strapped herself into the body armour.  She slung the rifle over
her shoulder and placed the tactical helmet on her head.  It offered a head-up
display, analysing whatever was picked up from the helmet mounted cameras and
overlaying what its AI decided might be tactically useful information over the
wearer’s view.  To test it Maya looked at the two officers who were now
checking their weapons and putting on armour.  The HUD immediately told
her their names and ranks.  It informed her that they had no criminal
records, and that their weapons were registered to Venkdt Security.

She flipped
the visor up so her face was fully visible and walked down to the transports
waiting below.  As she neared the transports a man and a woman approached
her.

“Commissioner
Foveaux,” the man said, “we have fourteen officers here beside us and we’re
expecting the rest very soon.”

“Good,” said
Foveaux.  “I want the most heavily armed in the first transport with me,
less heavily in the second and so on.”

“Very good,
Commissioner,” said the woman.  “Where are we going?”

Foveaux fixed
her with a gentle stare.  “I’ll come to that in a minute.  What’s
important is that we look scary and capable.”

“Yes,
Commissioner.”

“Can you do
that?”

“Yes,
Commissioner.”

Foveaux spoke
to the man.  “Let me know when the rest are here and I’ll begin the
briefing.”  As she was speaking another transport pulled into the
bay.  Two officers got out of the front and walked to the rear
doors.  They opened them and ushered out a group of worse-for-wear
party-goers who appeared to be chained together.  Behind them two
more officers emerged from the transport.  “
Ind
-dep-end-
ent
Maaars
!” one of the party-goers
bellowed.  An officer prodded him in the ribs with a night-stick.

“Keep it
down,” he said, as they marched the revellers through the building for
processing.

The
stragglers seemed to arrive as one whole group.  Maybe they’d met up at
the refectory or had all just come off duty together.  As they gathered by
the transports, fiddling with their weapons and armour, Maya called out,
“Listen up!  Gather round me here.”  Officers duly congregated in a
semi-circle about her.  She waited for them to settle down.

“We are going
over to the garrison.  We are going there so I can negotiate with Colonel
Shaw about the garrison’s status now that Mars has gained independence.  I
expect Colonel Shaw will be resistant to any arguments I have to make.  So
be it.  The reason we are going in force is twofold.  Firstly, I want
to show the colonel that we have force of arms and are a more than equal match
for the forces under her command.  Secondly, I want to deter the colonel
from resisting the changes that have recently taken place by denying our
authority.  I short, I don’t want her to try to arrest me.

“This will be
a delicate operation.  It will be a show of strength, not an attack. 
Realistically, I don’t expect the colonel to accede to our demands.  I do
expect her to have plenty to think about once we have left.  Questions?”

A hand was
raised.  “What do we do if they, you know, get rough?”

“Any sign of
trouble we pull back.  I’ll say it again; this is not an attack.  If
things start to escalate we pull out immediately.  But all the while we’re
there we need to look serious and we need to look plausible.”

“When are we
going?”

“Now.”

The garrison
was housed in a three storey building which was mostly underground.  It
was built into the rock, the rear side of it ending in a solid wall of Martian
permafrost, but the front side facing an open area, like a standard office
building on Earth.  The open area served as a parade ground and training
area, as well as a transport hub.  Above this area was a huge vaulted
Perspex ceiling, criss-crossed by the beams and struts supporting
it.
  The technology was pre-dome, though the
building was actually newer than that.