Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) (34 page)

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.”

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 unnecessarily.  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.”

Sherman
munched on his burger.  He nodded to White, aware that he was now being
used as an unofficial therapist.  He didn’t mind too much.  He was
hungry and wanted to eat, and it was easy enough to nod here and there and look
sympathetic while White droned on.

“If it comes
to a hot war it would be even more disastrous than the last one.  At least
there we were fighting foreigners, people who could legitimately be seen to be
enemies of the USAN.  If this thing kicks off we’ll be fighting our own
people, and on what many of us still consider to be USAN soil.  Can you
imagine that?  The absolute calamity of it.  It would be like a civil
war.  I just can’t bear to think about it.  And it would give Cortes
a plausible reason to continue with his Restrictive War Measures.  I know
he only needs the slightest excuse to extend them.  He’s trying to wriggle
out of resuming elections as it is.  He actually
needs
a
crisis - it suits his agenda.  If we can take the sting
out of this, defuse the whole thing, I think we’ll be performing a great public
duty.  We can deprive Cortes of his war and get him kicked out of office.”