War To The Knife (41 page)

Corporal Bujold raised his hand. “Sir,” he responded thoughtfully, “perhaps they’d just had confirmation of the death of the Satrap. They’ve said nothing publicly about that yet, but if they’d just received a message from Bactria – couriers arrive at this planet every week from all over, so that’s possible – it might have made them lose their tempers. The murder might have been an eye-for-an-eye tit-for-tat response – ‘you kill our Satrap, we kill the leader of your Government-in-Exile’, that sort of thing. They may not have had enough time to calm down and think about the likely consequences.”

“Now
that
is a
very
interesting thought, Corporal!” A buzz of agreement greeted Dave’s enthusiastic reaction. “You may have put your finger on it. In fact, the idea may have come from someone at low level in the Consulate. It’s even possible the shooting wasn’t planned at all – it might have been a spur-of-the-moment knee-jerk reaction to the news. Planned or not, the Consul and his senior staff might have known nothing about it until after the event.”

“That makes me wonder about an item on the early news this morning,” Elisabeta said in a musing tone. “The Bactrian Consulate announced that one of their drivers was killed in an accident in their parking garage yesterday evening. A vehicle crushed him against a wall.”

“A-
ha!”
Dave exclaimed triumphantly. “Ten will get you one he was the shooter yesterday morning, or issued the orders to shoot. Dead men tell no tales. They also make useful scapegoats. You can blame them to your superiors for anything and everything, and they can’t argue or object.”

“Then we’ll still blame Bactria for the murder, Sir?” Sergeant Hein asked.

“Oh, yes! We’re going to publicly blame Bactria at every opportunity, because ultimately they’re responsible for anything done by their people or in their name. Of course, the only thing we can actually prove for certain is that our stolen suitcase was opened in their consulate. That’s not the same as proving they stole it or murdered Vice-President Johns. They’ll probably claim the case was delivered to them anonymously without their knowing what it was or how it was obtained.”

Deacon frowned incredulously. “Surely they can’t expect anyone to believe that?”

“Have you ever heard of the so-called ‘Big Lie’ theory? It says that if you tell a big enough lie often enough, sooner or later at least some people will start to believe it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Bactrian consulate tries to do that in this case. If they do, we’re going to mock the hell out of their claims, of course.”

“What role d’you think our former Ambassador played, Sir?” Bujold asked.

“They must have suborned him some time ago – his coming out of their Consulate yesterday certainly suggests that. Vice-President Johns would have told him about our courier message from New Brisbane, and he would have passed on the news to them. They’d have been desperate to stop the evidence reaching her, because if it was released it’d do serious damage to their planet’s reputation throughout the settled galaxy. I think they sent McNairy to try to get the evidence from us the night we arrived by running a bluff. When that didn’t work, they must have decided to steal it by force before we could hand it over – but they should have drawn the line at theft. To assassinate the Vice-President as well was sheer lunacy. I think Corporal Bujold’s theory is the only one that makes sense of that under the circumstances.”

Dave drank some more coffee, then looked around the room. “We have a number of tasks ahead of us in the short term. We need to establish contact with Commonwealth University on Lancaster and begin the process of turning over copies of Laredo’s archives to them. We’ll also need to liaise with their medical personnel concerning the debriefings and counseling Gloria Allred said we’d all need. I think we’ve all realized the truth of her words in the six weeks we’ve been out of a combat zone. Tamsin and I have noticed the amount of sheer stress we’re carrying, and I’m pretty sure we’re not alone.” Nods of understanding and agreement came from all of his colleagues.

“Second, we have to restructure our Embassy to the United Planets, which will incorporate the office of our Government-in-Exile. Everything done before our arrival and its entire present staff must be considered compromised, thanks to McNairy’s defection. We’ll have to recruit new staff, then the Embassy will have to take part in the UP inquiry and mobilize public opinion on our side. It must also try to obtain assistance from other planets, financial and material. I think the assassination of Vice-President Johns will lend a powerful emotional appeal to those efforts, and I’m going to play that hand for all it’s worth. I think she’d understand and approve.

“I’m thinking of asking Captain Deacon to act as our Ambassador for a year or two. He’s the most experienced of us, and also the oldest and most decorated. He’ll be a good public face for Laredo. We can’t afford to leave him in that post, of course, because we’ll need him operationally; but in the short term I think he’s our best choice.” Smiles and nods from most of the others indicated their agreement. “What do you think, Captain? You’re free to disagree if you wish.”

Deacon grimaced. “I’m no politician, Sir.”

“I’m not either, but as a Sergeant-Major you were the main regimental liaison between officers on the one hand, and NCO’s and enlisted personnel on the other, weren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir, I suppose I was.”

“That strikes me as pretty much the work of a diplomat – acting as liaison between different groups of people. The only difference is that if you don’t like one group as a diplomat, you can’t scream at them while double-timing them around the parade-ground!” A roar of laughter greeted his words.

“I’ll try not to give in to that temptation, Sir,” Deacon agreed, shaking with amusement.

“As an incentive, Elisabeta will be stationed at our Embassy because most of our relations with the media will flow through it. You’ll be working closely together.”

“Ah! That’s good to know.” He winked at Elisabeta, who blushed, eliciting knowing smiles from the rest of the group. “You said you’d need me operationally, Sir. What will that involve?”

“I was coming to that. I’m going to soft-pedal the military aspects for a year or so while we reorganize our Embassy, start the United Planets inquiry, and work with Commonwealth University. Furthermore, as we deal with the stresses and tensions of three and a half years of war, some of us may decide that they’d prefer to make a fresh start in civilian life. That’s OK with me – they’ve absolutely earned the right to do so.

“Oh – speaking of earning, we all have back pay coming. Most of us haven’t been paid for at least two years, some for three or more, and General Allred authorized me to pay everyone what they were owed. I couldn’t possibly figure out individual amounts without records, so I asked Mr. Gottschalk to find out the annual salary of a First Lieutenant in Neue Helvetica’s armed forces and multiplied it by three. The total came to just under a hundred and fifty thousand Neue Helvetica francs, so I rounded it up to that figure.”

He reached into Vice-President Johns’ – now his – attaché case and produced a handful of debit chips. “Each of these has been pre-loaded with that amount. It should be more than any of you were owed, and I’m not going to worry about different salary scales or rates of exchange. It’s enough to live reasonably comfortably for two to three years in civilian life on Neue Helvetica, or serve as a nest egg for you to start a new life anywhere you please. You’re welcome to deposit it in your own bank accounts – I’ve asked our specialist at the Handelsbank to open personal accounts for everyone who wants one – or you can spend it using these chips. It’s your call.” He passed the chips around the table, each soldier taking one and pocketing it.

“I’m in the process of discussing our present rank structure with Captain Deacon,” he continued. “I think we’re going to promote all who aren’t yet Staff Sergeants to that rank, because we’ll all be working at that level at least, and everyone has more than enough combat experience to justify the rank. I’ve put us all on Neue Helvetica rates of pay for our rank and grade with effect from this month, since we’ll be living here for the foreseeable future. As I said earlier, we’ll transition to civilian clothing for the duration of our stay, and I’ll probably buy or lease a building – perhaps a small hotel or apartment block – so we can live together. We’ll move the Embassy offices to the building, too. That’ll make it easier to consolidate security arrangements for all of us and our work, and the entire premises will be covered by diplomatic immunity. That might come in useful.”

He looked around the table. “Once we’ve taken care of the initial tasks I mentioned, we have unfinished business with Bactria.” There was a growl of angry agreement. “All of us choosing to continue the fight will train as Spacers, because our fight is likely to continue in space rather than planetside. We’ll have to buy spaceships, equip them with weapons, and select targets where we can cause the maximum damage to the Bactrian economy at minimal cost to ourselves. That’ll almost certainly mean hiring mercenaries to work with us. That’s risky business, because there are an awful lot of shysters and conmen in that field, but I think between our combat experience and the advice of the most trustworthy advisers we can hire, we’ll be able to work around those problems.

“Gretchen opened our eyes to a much more important implication of all this. Tamsin and I spent all night discussing and researching it. I’m going to ask her to speak to that.”

He sat down as his wife rose from her seat next to him. She smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder before turning to the others.

“Gretchen pointed out that there are well over a hundred planets in the settled galaxy that are plus-or-minus the same size as Laredo in terms of population. All have small economies and relatively ill-equipped military forces. A lot of them live in a permanent state of worry that someone with a stronger military and a bigger economy might decide to take what they’ve got. Our war with Bactria is by no means the first time something like that has happened.

“Dave and I thought about what she’d said after she left. The Vice-President’s murder is bound to get the attention of other small planets, even if the Bactrian invasion didn’t. If we approach them, pointing out that they’re as vulnerable as Laredo was, we might be able to interest some of them in working with us to not only kick Bactria out of Laredo, but set up a shared security mechanism – a loose defensive alliance – that will be available to all participants to deter aggressors in future.”

She began to pace back and forth, her brow furrowing in thought as she continued. “They’d have to contribute money and people to a joint force. It wouldn’t be on the size and scale of the battle fleets maintained by the major powers, because small planets don’t usually face threats that big. Let’s face it, if a big power were to move in on a minor planet, the war would be over before it began! No, small planets need protection against the Bactrias of the settled galaxy. Why shouldn’t we provide it, or at least help start it?

“We could build up a squadron or two of warships. Spread over a number of minor worlds, the cost per planet wouldn’t be prohibitive, and they’d all benefit from the deterrent effect of a shared force big enough to deal with a typical aggressor. If another Bactria reared its head, the joint force would be big enough to destroy its orbital and space-based economy and blockade it, isolating it from the rest of the settled galaxy. That’s a big deterrent, right there; and if it wasn’t enough, the blockading force could begin bombarding critical installations with kinetic projectiles from orbit – avoiding population centers, of course, and giving warnings to target areas in time to evacuate everyone. A few flattened dams, roads, airports and harbors should drive home the message.”

She stopped walking and looked around. “Clearly, this is a longer-term proposition. Our main focus will be on Bactria in the short term. However, if we can parlay that into something that will help other planets besides Laredo, we’ll be helping ourselves as much as we help them – and I’d hate to see another planet suffer the way ours did.”

Sergeant Higgs asked, “Ma’am, what if we don’t want to make a career in the military? I’m a reservist, even though I’ve been full-time since the war began. I don’t mind fighting Bactria, but I’d like to get back to civilian life sometime. I don’t want to spend the next twenty years training others and supporting a deterrent force in which I don’t have a personal stake.”

“Dave’s already said we’ll be free to make new lives for ourselves,” she pointed out. “We really mean that. This is going to take a lot of commitment, and anyone feeling burned out after Laredo should consider their options very carefully. We won’t blame you in the least if you decide to do that. We’ll still have work for you in our Embassy as a civilian, or you can do something on your own – even move to another planet and start afresh there. It’s up to you.”

Dave stood up beside her and took the attaché case from behind his chair. Its leather still bore several dark crusted streaks and stains, standing out starkly against its tan color. He pointed to them as he said, “Let me tell you where Tamsin and I stand. That’s Vice-President Johns’ blood from yesterday. I’m not going to clean it off; in fact, I’m going to spray sealant over it to preserve it. After this morning’s news conference, I’m going to mount this in a glass display case in the foyer of our Embassy. It’ll be a permanent reminder to us and everyone who visits us of why we’re doing this – as if we needed another one!

“It doesn’t matter to me whether a Bactrian thug acted on his own initiative, or whether he was ordered to kill her. We’re going to make Bactria pay for her murder as much as for their invasion of Laredo. Both Tamsin and I were slowly coming to the conclusion that we couldn’t do much as individuals, or with such a small group of soldiers, and asking ourselves whether we should end hostilities. Not anymore. From now on, whether we stand alone or with others, it’s going to be war to the knife.”

There was a savage yell of agreement as most of those around the table thrust themselves to their feet. “WAR TO THE KNIFE!”