The Lotus Eaters (8 page)

"The very short version of this is that every current legion is going to become a corps. A fifth corps will be created from tidbits taken from here and there. Every
tercio
will become a legion, plus several legions will have to be created almost from scratch. Every existing cohort will have to expand to the size of a
tercio
, and reconfigure itself to be an organization for heads up, conventional combat. I mean serious bloodletting.

"Some—many—of the units are going to have to shit large cadres to form still others.

"We are going to be buying or building or rebuilding tanks and planes and ships and guns as never before. We need trucks and helicopters and armored personnel carriers galore. Uniforms. Rifles. Radios. Machine Guns. Mortars . . . Ammunition."

Carrera stopped to pour himself a drink of water, wishing deep down that it were whiskey, before continuing with, "The biggest change will be in personnel management. We're not going to be a regular force anymore. In fact, the regulars will be pretty much limited to you people here, and those who couldn't attend but who have at least earned stripes. You will provide a cadre for units four times bigger than the cadres you provide. The difference will be made up of reservists, men and women we've sent to training, kept with the colors for a year or so to assimilate and socialize them, and then released to civil life . . . to partly civil life. Between you and the reservists, you will form the core for units, again, four times larger, with the difference being made up of militia. The difference between reservists and militia will be ability. The militia will be average, everyday Juans. The reservists will be those with some of that special spark that all or at least most of you have. Overall, the ratio will be one regular to three reservists to twelve militia.

"Generally speaking, you will all hold two ranks, permanent and full mobilization. You'll wear and be paid at your full mobilization rank when you are, in fact, mobilized and when your units are called up for training.

"Yes, that means the twenty-four or so thousand people we have on their second or subsequent enlistment, or who are lifers, will form the leadership for a force of about ninety-six thousand, not quite three percent of the country, while that ninety-six thousand will provide the leadership for a full force of nearly four hundred thousand, or about eleven percent of the country."

"Yesss . . . that's right, all you squad and section leaders. Get used to the idea of being First Centurion to a maniple . . .
soon
. Signifers and junior tribunes"—which in most armies would have been called "second-" or "first lieutenants"—"I
sure
hope you've been keeping up with your studies; you're going to be commanding cohorts before the signifier half of you even have to begin shaving regularly. Senior Tribunes?"—captains and majors in other armies—"There are eagles in your future . . . that, or relief for cause."

In his ornate office, behind his massive desk made of hand carved Terra Novan silverwood, Janier contemplated the series of gold-embroidered eagles on the blue material of the sleeves of his reproduction marshal's uniform.

How sad
, he thought,
to be born into the wrong time. Seven centuries ago and I could have marched with the Emperor; made my name at Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena-Auerstadt. Now, all I can do is try to make my name in
Balboa
 . . . which is hardly the same thing. Life is
so
unfair.

Still, it could be worse. I have good troops, great power. The weather is pleasant and the surroundings more civilized than in, say, Middle Uhuru. At least my mistress here is approximately white.

The general breathed a deep sigh pregnant with frustration.
I could take the rest of this country if my political masters would allow me to and support me in it. At least, now I could. It's simply a question of isolating that force out on the
Isla Real
by navy and air, and we have the assets to do both back in Taurus, then grabbing Parilla's government, the one that presides over the rest of Balboa. Yes, there are a hundred thousand enemy reservists, but they can be handled with their leadership stuck out on the island. And even the island must surrender when the food runs out.

There are, of course, those distressing rumors that the Legion del Cid has nuclear weapons. But I don't see them using them on their own base country. The things aren't terribly useful, anyway; and didn't the Yithrabi terrorists prove that when they set one off by accident in their own capital?

Capital . . . capital . . . I can see myself marching proudly through the capital after I have won the war here. I can see myself at the helm of Gaul, tugging its strings, while Gaul tugs the Tauran Union's strings, the TU runs the World League, and the World League shits on the damned Columbians of the Federated States.

Of course, the trick will be to make sure that United Earth is not in a position to pull
my
strings. Well . . .
half
the trick, anyway. I still need to find a way to convince the TU to support me.

I wonder if the Balboans, themselves, wouldn't assist in that. That would be a help.

Marguerite breathed a small sigh of relief when the SecGen agreed, "I can shave a little more off the top for maintenance of the Peace Fleet. But you have to understand; my position depends in good part on
not
asking too much in the way of sacrifices, and on giving the people that matter what they want. Why, after all, do you suppose I let the Azteca and the Orthodox Druids get away with their insanities?"

The SecGen uttered a curse. "Why, oh,
why
can't those morons be like the Caliph of Rome, on the other side of the Vatican? He, at least, is a sensible man, an atheist."

Wallenstein ignored that. As a member in good standing of the Reformed Druidic faith, she didn't really approve of the Caliph or his cynical manipulation of his diminishing faithful. Changing the subject back, she said, "If you can't provide what the fleet needs quickly—"

"—I can't—"

"—Then we'll have to bring it forward in packets." Marguerite chewed on her lower lip for a time, thinking hard. "I really need to keep the Peace Fleet on station around Terra Nova . . . hmmm . . .

Marguerite's eyes brightened. "Well . . . the colonization fleet is still in orbit around the moon."

"No one's looked to those ships in
centuries
, Marguerite," the SecGen said.

"I know," she nodded. "But things in space, at least the things that aren't being used, don't deteriorate much. Those ships will probably work still. Besides, we don't need all of them, just enough to run a regular shuttle service to the Peace Fleet. I can do some juggling of personnel in the Peace Fleet to man a shuttle service . . . even enough to bring the colonization ships back on line." She laughed, a trifle bitterly. "Why not? I've got ships around TN operating off skeleton crews to reduce the wear and tear on life support. I've others that are half-cannibalized. I have those crews doing make-work on Atlantis Base because there's no place in space to put them."

"Well," the SecGen said, "as you get your fleet running again you will run short of people."

"No," she shook her head. "That won't be a problem. It isn't going to happen so fast that we can't train new people."

"Training is going to be a problem," Carrera said. "Reservists and militia will be cheaper than regulars, with reservists serving only seventy-five days a year and militia thirty or so. That's still expensive and still more troops out in the field than we have training areas for, despite the major maneuver areas at
Lago Sombrero
, the Guarasi 'Desert,' and Fort Cameron. We also need to bring about thirty to thirty-five thousand new people to the colors a year for the foreseeable future. And
they're
going to have to do their initial training on the
Isla Real
, the only place we have facilities for it. Obviously, there's not room out there for you and them both.

"So you and your units are going to be moving to casernes on the mainland. Which we have to build. Which we have to find and buy land for. Which is also going to be expensive as hell.

"Fortunately,
Presidente
Parilla—" Carrera gave a nod to Raul, sitting between McNamara and Fernandez, the Intel chief, in the front row—"has offered to let us use, more or less permanently and more or less without restrictions, a great deal of the nationally owned land to establish major training areas.

"This will, I imagine, piss off the world's environmentally conscious and sensitive class to no end."

Carrera's tone and smile said all that needed to be said about his deep and abiding lack of concern for the sentiments of those environmentalists. Oh, yes, he had set aside some funding for the preservation of the endangered trixies, but that was more personal than environmental in motive.

"And you have to be wondering where all the extra troops are going to come from. We already have some substantial numbers of legionaries from every state in Colombia Latina. In fact, we take in a couple of thousand Spanish-speaking foreigners a year and have almost since we started, eleven years ago. Those numbers have to go up. A lot. As do the numbers we take in from Balboa itself.

"And at this point, I'd like to ask the President to the stand to explain some legal and political changes.
Presidente
Parilla?"

Carrera came to attention as soon as Parilla stood. Following his cue, all the military types present did likewise, while the civilians, such as there were, simply shut up and stood a bit straighter.

* * *

Fernandez, sitting next to Parilla's vacated chair, fumed,
He's giving too much away
.
There are half a dozen people here on the Tauran Union's payroll that I
know
of. How many more are there that I have no clue to?

On the plus side, I'll find out about at least a couple more that I don't currently know about when they go scurrying to inform their masters of what's been said here. That's something, I suppose.

Fernandez was right to be worried, if only because intelligence and counter-intelligence was his job. For that matter, supervision of covert direct action, a euphemism for assassination and sabotage, were also his bailiwick. He was rather good at his job, too, due to a combination of practical experience, sheer ruthlessness, and—this was the general opinion of those in a position to know—brainpower.

And then, too, if there are half a dozen people here on the enemy's payroll, I've a dozen in his key offices on mine. Those, and the commander of the Castilian battalion who feeds me information simply because he hates the Tauran Union and wants his country out of it. It's fair, I suppose. Except that I know Rocaberti has spies in our force, more than a few of them, and I've never managed to get a spy right on his immediate staff. Not for lack of trying, either. But blood counts and they're all his relations, to one degree or another.

But, Patricio, you need to make the enemy
work
, for his information. Everything you give him for free leaves him free to devote resources to finding more.

* * *

Carrera, standing on the stage while Parilla made his way up it, stole a glance at the space the President had vacated. In particular, he looked at Fernandez's ferret-like face.
I know exactly what you're thinking, Omar. Too much information, given too freely. "Make the enemy work for his intelligence," isn't that what you've been nagging me over for better than ten years? That's not the right calculation. We also need our own people not to have to work for information they need to support the mission.

It's an arguable point, I admit, and one with, perhaps, no truly satisfactory answer. But, besides that we need our own people on board, there are at least two other factors. One is that intelligence freely given can also misdirect. In other words, the more the TU looks at the main force, the more they see it as adequately powerful, the less inclined they'll be to look for other things that go beyond adequately powerful.

The other thing is that I have not given anyone, not even you, my ferret-faced friend,
all
the information.

Wallenstein had had months to think on the voyage from new Earth to Old. She'd put those months to good use.

"Why are you so convinced that this Carrera person and the petty little fiefdom he occupies have to go, Marguerite?" The SecGen drummed his fingers on the marble inlay of his ornate desk, a thousand year old relic dug out the Vatican's cellars. The finger drumming made her nervous.

Best not to mention the nukes
, she thought,
since I had a small part in them. Fortunately, I don't have to mention them.

"He upsets things," she answered. "He's an unpredictable factor that is controlled by no one, listens to no one, and can be deterred or bribed by nothing."

"Are you
sure
he can be bribed by nothing?" the SecGen asked. "Near immortality is no small thing. Would he cooperate with us for that?"

She shook her head in doubt. "From what I can gather he already has the only kinds of immortality that might matter to him, children and a belief in the Christian god. Those, and that he's already going into the history books, if that matters to him. Plus . . . well . . ."

"Go on," the SecGen urged.

"I think he makes us the most useful kind of enemy," Wallenstein answered.

"Please explain."

"As a practical matter, our kind of people never could have taken and held power here on Earth if Terra Nova hadn't been there as both a draw, initially, and a dumping ground, later, for those who would have resisted us. The discovery of the rift and then of the other planet are what changed the political and philosophical make up here on Earth.

"That can't happen there. There is no other rift with a useful planet at the other end—at least none that's ever been found—and so there is no place to send away the kind of people we sent to Terra Nova. Without that kind of demographic change—or engineering, there towards the end—we lose. At least our kind of people lose."