A Desert Called Peace Part 26

As Pat stood to walk into the sanctum sanctorum sanctum sanctorum, the holy of holies, he thought, Hennessey...Carrera....s.h.i.tbird and motherf.u.c.ker. I have so many names now. Hennessey...Carrera....s.h.i.tbird and motherf.u.c.ker. I have so many names now.

Campos was polite, at least. He stood, walked around his desk and offered his hand in welcome to the man he thought of as Patrick Hennessey, and more importantly thought of as the heir to the Chatham, Hennessey, and Schmied empire.

Hennessey took it while, at the same time, taking the measure of Campos. Tall man. Old but not worn. Good bearing and good health. I wish he didn't have the face of a technocrat. Tall man. Old but not worn. Good bearing and good health. I wish he didn't have the face of a technocrat.

Campos began the chat. "Mr. Hennessey, how can I help you? Senator Rodman thought it imperative that we speak and, since she is on the Defense Appropriation Committee, I thought it wise to listen."

"Mr. Secretary, it's more a question of how we can help each other," Hennessey replied, in what had to be the oldest intro to a confidence game ever played. Campos took it as such but, in his line of work, expected no less.

"Please call me Ron."

"Pat, then...Ron. Look, I know know that sounded like bulls.h.i.t. But it's the truth. I have something that sounded like bulls.h.i.t. But it's the truth. I have something you you need. You have something need. You have something I I need." need."

"And those would be?" Campos enquired, innocently.

"I have an ally for you. I have an infantry brigade to a.s.sist you. I have people who will bleed and die so that fewer kids from the Federated States need to. I have people who will do so for less, much less, than it would cost you to have your own do it."

"But I need money, a lot lot of money, though less money than you would need for you own forces." of money, though less money than you would need for you own forces."

"Oh, really." Campos sounded, at best, skeptical.

"Yes, really. Shall I tell you?"

Campos consulted the watch on his wrist. Oh, what the h.e.l.l? I cleared my slate for two hours at that t.w.a.t, Harriet's, insistence. I can at least hear the man out. Oh, what the h.e.l.l? I cleared my slate for two hours at that t.w.a.t, Harriet's, insistence. I can at least hear the man out.

"All right," he said. "You have my undivided attention for the next thirty minutes. If you can engage my genuine interest in that time you can have more."

"Fair enough," Hennessey answered. Then he began to explain what he had on offer, and a portion of why he had it. Thirty minutes stretched to an hour, to an hour and a half, to two hours, to..."Mildred, clear my calendar for this afternoon. I'll be busy until this evening."

That led to, "And how much is this going to cost me?"

Hennessey inhaled deeply then sighed. "As I said, a lot lot. But less than it might.

"We believe, my people and I, that the cost for you to use one brigade in full up combat for one month is approximately twelve billion drachma. To have that brigade in action over a longer term requires you to maintain a full division. That costs an additional four hundred million per month, base. That, you'll agree, is chicken feed compared to the cost for actual combat."

"Whenever someone talks about that kind of money," Campos corrected, "it's never never chickenfeed." chickenfeed."

"All right," Hennessey conceded, smiling. "It's not not chickenfeed. That also means that it wouldn't be chickenfeed if you could save that much, doesn't it." chickenfeed. That also means that it wouldn't be chickenfeed if you could save that much, doesn't it."

Quick b.a.s.t.a.r.d, isn't he? Campos mused. Campos mused.

"Further," Carrera said, "I will deploy my legion to al Jahara in time for the upcoming campaign. I will partic.i.p.ate in that campaign. I will undertake any mission you or your commander in the field should care to a.s.sign us that does not involve going up against ma.s.ses of heavy armor or which requires that we operate more than one hundred miles from a logistics base. We're not equipped for that and frankly you don't need us for that; you need us for clearing fortifications and built up areas. I will do so for sixty percent of the cost to you, per month, of using FS troops. That is to say, it will cost you seven point two billion FSD per month of active operations. Neither my staff nor, might I add, yours yours expects active operations to last past six weeks. Later on, if there needs to be a pacification and stabilization phase, we can also be hired. I estimate the cost to you of that to be on the order of six billion, per year, for our one brigade...or legion, as we call it. Since that saves you billions, you'll agree that you will not be saving "chickenfeed," yes?" expects active operations to last past six weeks. Later on, if there needs to be a pacification and stabilization phase, we can also be hired. I estimate the cost to you of that to be on the order of six billion, per year, for our one brigade...or legion, as we call it. Since that saves you billions, you'll agree that you will not be saving "chickenfeed," yes?"

Campos sighed. The leathery face grew a tad weary. "And there you had me going for a while. We can't afford that. I'd have to hide it and frankly I couldn't hide that much."

"You can't afford not to...Ron. And you can hide enough of it."

Campos pointed out, "We've already been helping you, you know. Harriet saw to that. Can't you come down on the price a little?"

Hennessey smiled, thinking, We've already established what you are, young lady. Now we are merely negotiating your price. We've already established what you are, young lady. Now we are merely negotiating your price.

The next morning Campos sent for an officer stationed there in the War Department who knew Patrick Hennessey from long years' service together.

"Is this guy Hennessey on the level, Virg?"

The officer addressed, one Colonel Virgil Rivers, shrugged, sighed, looked up and finally answered, "Pat Hennessey? Well, Mr. Secretary, the first thing you have to understand about Pat is...well...he's insane. I don't mean a little odd; I mean clinically insane. Great guy, actually, but nuttier than a fruitcake."

"You mean this was all bulls.h.i.t from a lunatic, this "legion" he claims to have?"

Rivers laughed, white teeth shining in a cafe au lait face. "Oh, no, Mr. Secretary. If he says something is so, bet your last drachma that it is is so. He's not crazy so. He's not crazy that that way. He sees reality perfectly well and is annoyingly honest and irritatingly precise to boot. But he interprets it differently. It means something different than it does to the rest of us." Rivers face grew contemplative for a moment. "That; or the rest of us are just idiots. I've sometimes wondered about that." way. He sees reality perfectly well and is annoyingly honest and irritatingly precise to boot. But he interprets it differently. It means something different than it does to the rest of us." Rivers face grew contemplative for a moment. "That; or the rest of us are just idiots. I've sometimes wondered about that."

Campos, who was quite certain that he he was the most intelligent man who ever lived, bridled a bit at the thought that anyone could see was the most intelligent man who ever lived, bridled a bit at the thought that anyone could see him him as an idiot. "So how is he insane?" he asked. as an idiot. "So how is he insane?" he asked.

"He's uncontrollable," Rivers answered without hesitation. "By that I mean there is nothing, nothing nothing, you can do to him to deter him from something he decides is right and proper to do. Worse, his version of right and wrong come straight out of ancient history. I've never been entirely sure if it's a case of the civilized man holding the barbarian in check or if the barbarian puts the civilized man out as a cover and controls even that from behind the scenes. Of course, it could be a case of symbiosis, too.

"I have also heard him say to his own commander, and this is exactly what he said, "You fat-f.u.c.king-pig-eyed toad, you incarnate insult to the military profession, you can't make me me do anything. You just don't have the b.a.l.l.s for it." I treasured that, actually. And Pat pegged the piece of s.h.i.t pretty well, too." Rivers do anything. You just don't have the b.a.l.l.s for it." I treasured that, actually. And Pat pegged the piece of s.h.i.t pretty well, too." Rivers tsked tsked. "It was a shame about the relief for cause."

"Insubordinate then, is he?"

Rivers shook his head, more or less ruefully. "Oh, Mr. Secretary, you have no idea. Pat Hennessey hasn't the tiniest inkling of a clue about subordination. Mind you, he'll take any mission you give him and perform it superbly, even artistically. Any mission. But he will never let anyone else have a say in how how he goes about performing it. He'll tell you to your face that it's none of your business. And he doesn't care what your rank is. he goes about performing it. He'll tell you to your face that it's none of your business. And he doesn't care what your rank is.

"By the way, if I can ask, Mr. Secretary, just what is the deal he's offering?"

"A large brigade, roughly equivalent to four Army or two and a half Marine battalions, for five point three billion drachma a month for a mid-intensity campaign and five point five to six billion a year for counter-insurgency. For that price we have to provide all medical support to include long term care and medical evacuation, to the same standards we provide our own. We also must provide a suitable log base at no greater distance from the front than his own transportation a.s.sets can support, about one hundred miles. And we can deduct the cost of air and artillery support he he asks for munitions only, not wear and tear from the base figure. f.u.c.ker bargains hard." asks for munitions only, not wear and tear from the base figure. f.u.c.ker bargains hard."

Rivers whistled but not for the expected reason. "That is is a bargain, you know, sir. I've been intimately involved with the figures and it could represent a savings of about seven and a half to eight billion for either the active campaign or for a year of pacification if we need that, or both, not even counting the number of our own killed and wounded we'd save." a bargain, you know, sir. I've been intimately involved with the figures and it could represent a savings of about seven and a half to eight billion for either the active campaign or for a year of pacification if we need that, or both, not even counting the number of our own killed and wounded we'd save."

"Yeah, Virg, I know. But how do I hide that much money?"

Rivers, who had a sneaky creative streak, answered, "Generally speaking, funnel some of it through his government in the form of foreign aid. Some can be purely black. And some can be paid up front...say, on a cost-plus basis."

"Yeah...maybe. Tell me, Virg, if you were in command of the operation and this Hennessey person came to you, knowing him as you do, and making this offer, would you take it?"

"Sir, I gave you the bad side up front. It isn't all bad. For one thing, within certain limits, he's much the most intelligent human being I've ever met, excepting only my wife and I confess I may be prejudiced there. Pat's very loyal to anyone who deserves loyalty. Loyalty..." Rivers began to laugh.

"What's so funny, Virgil?"

"Well...he is is very loyal. Just because he's an insubordinate son of a b.i.t.c.h doesn't mean he's disloyal. There was one occasion, where that same commander tried to get at Pat by busting one of his NCOs from staff sergeant to sergeant. The man...his name was Morse or something like that...anyway, he came out on the promotion list for platoon sergeant a couple of days later. Pat sat on the paperwork to bust him until that commander left command. He then talked the next guy into suspending the bust. Was that illegal? Probably. But it was right. very loyal. Just because he's an insubordinate son of a b.i.t.c.h doesn't mean he's disloyal. There was one occasion, where that same commander tried to get at Pat by busting one of his NCOs from staff sergeant to sergeant. The man...his name was Morse or something like that...anyway, he came out on the promotion list for platoon sergeant a couple of days later. Pat sat on the paperwork to bust him until that commander left command. He then talked the next guy into suspending the bust. Was that illegal? Probably. But it was right.

"And he really can do amazing if I hadn't seen them I would say impossible things with regard to training troops. I've got stories I could tell you....ah, never mind, too complex. He is tactically and operationally...well..."deft" is not a strong enough term.

"So, yes, Mr. Secretary. If it were at all possible, I'd take him up on it."

"What do you suppose his motivation is, Rivers? Megalomania? A desire to show up the Army that cast him out?"

Rivers c.o.c.ked his head back in surprise. "Didn't he tell you, sir? It's much simpler than that. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds killed his wife and kids."

The phone rang at Hennessey's Federal District hotel, an upscale but small establishment just off of Emba.s.sy Row. He answered.

"Hennessey, this is Ron Campos. This is the deal; take it or pound sand. I'm going to cover your operational and training expenses on a cost plus basis, cost plus ten percent, for the next six months. That amount will be deducted from your final bill IF we decide your group can do the job. I am sending down an officer who doesn't know you and whom you don't know that's right, boyo, not one of your fans; Virgil Rivers warned me about that to judge whether your legion is worth hiring. If he decides you are, you have a contract at the figures and with the provisos we discussed. If he nixes you, tough s.h.i.t."

Carrera's respect for Campos went up a notch. "Done, Mr. Secretary."

Interlude

CNN Studios, Atlanta, Georgia, USA, 5 May, 2068 A year's worth of decent feeding had returned Marjorie Billings-Rajamana to her normal state, exotic beauty. She was a natural.

The studio, however, was something of a sham, a living room-looking arrangement on one side, which the cameras faced, and a maze of snaking cables and dividers on the other. The interviewer was at least as much of a sham, his only real talent being the ability to project an air of interest and intelligence onto a face that, while pretty pretty, sat in front of a fundamentally dead mind.

"It actually started on Earth," Marjorie began in explanation, her upper cla.s.s British accent lending considerable dignity to her words. "We didn't know it at the time, but it started here, during the training program."

"What started here?" the interviewer asked. Well, that wasn't a mind-straining question, after all.

"A love affair," Marjorie sighed. "A teenaged teenaged love affair." love affair."

"Love destroyed the Cheng Ho Cheng Ho?"

G.o.d, where did they get this idiot? Coming here was a mistake. Oh, well...stiff upper lip and all.

"Love started the chain of events that led to the troubles on the ship, yes. Then it continued to work its way to destroy it." Marjorie answered. "One of our colonists, Dr. Akbar al Damer, had a very lovely daughter, you see. Another, Dr. Immanuel Schweiz, had a handsome son. Without anyone here on Earth knowing it, those two fell in love. Touching, is it not?"

"Surely, yes," the talking head agreed, "but I hardly think-"

"On Earth, al Damer had to endure it," Marjorie plowed on. "In s.p.a.ce, once his daughter, Besma, came up pregnant, he could not. He killed the boy and his daughter, too. Oh, there was no proof he did it. Otherwise, the captain would have s.p.a.ced him. But al Damer did it, even so. Even if he had not it wouldn't have mattered. Everyone believed believed he had. he had.

"But that was only the first incident. We'd made a great effort to integrate the pa.s.sengers. That began to unravel when the first Buddhist girl married the first Buddhist guy. She moved in with his parents. Then they had a baby and there was no room. Actually, there was hardly room even to make a baby in our quarters but love will find a way." Marjorie smiled and thought, Especially in low gravity. Especially in low gravity.

"So a Hindu family, very sweetly, offered to vacate their nearby quarters if others could be found for them. The captain had a storage chamber cleaned out, not too far from another Hindu family. And everyone lived happily ever after.

"Not. Suddenly, without anyone ever thinking about it, we had two ethnic or religious centers of gravity. Marriages continued, and people kept shifting around. Within a year and a half there were Moslem sections, Mormon sections, Buddhist and Hindu sections, Catholic sections, Protestant sections...often separated by open s.p.a.ces, sections of quarters left empty during the shifting. One real problem was that Moslem girls, given the chance, often preferred non-Moslem boys and would leave their sections to find husbands and, often enough, lovers among the non-Moslems.

"There was surprisingly little conflict at first, considering what came later," she said. "And then Dr. al Damer was found stuffed into the recycling bin. The dead boy's father probably did it. Within hours the Moslem section was off limits to anyone but themselves and parties of Moslem 'youths'" one could hear the quotations as she said it "were rampaging and the girls were being dragged back.

"And then we had the Great Cartoon, Pig and Cow War..."

Chapter Fifteen.

The soldiers like training provided it is carried out sensibly.-Alexander Suvarov

Casa Linda, 7/7/460 AC Carrera coolly regarded the Federated States Army officer standing in front of his desk, wearing the battle dress of the FSA. The officer was so incredibly average looking as to nearly defy description: average height, average build, average hair loss for a man of about forty. He wore his gla.s.ses averagely and his uniform bore an average number of the merit badges the FSA had always seemed addicted to.

"Virgil Rivers sends his best, Legate," the officer, John Ridenhour, said.

That brought a smile to Carrera's face. "How is old Virg?"

"He's fine," Ridenhour answered. "He's been selected for his first star, you know. He said to remind you, "Who needs nukes?" If you don't mind my asking, and it seemed a d.a.m.ned odd thing to say, what the h.e.l.l does that mean?"

"You had to be there," Carrera answered.

"He also said to tell you that I am the "Imperial Spy," and that you should take very good care of me." It was Ridenhour's turn to smile.

"You look the part," Carrera answered. "John, I'd set you up in a penthouse or mansion, with hot and cold running bimbos, a fast convertible and a big fishing boat with a perpetually full beer cooler if that would get me the recommendation I need from you to get my legion to the war," Carrera admitted. "On the other hand, that would be a pretty serious insult so I am not not offering those things. Even so, do you have a place to stay?" offering those things. Even so, do you have a place to stay?"

"The Julio Caesare," Ridenhour answered.

Carrera considered. "That's a good choice. If you're not married check out the Disco Stelaris down by the casino. If you are are married then take my advice and married then take my advice and don't don't check out the disco. How about a-" check out the disco. How about a-"

From the next room Lourdes piped in, "Sergeant Major has already a.s.signed Mitch.e.l.l to drive for Coronel Ridenhour, Patricio."

G.o.d, she's such a treasure.

"Okay," Carrera said. "That settles that. Mitch.e.l.l has pretty decent Spanish, too, now. And he'll be armed so you needn't worry overmuch about personal security."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Ridenhour agreed. "Besides, my Spanish is actually fairly good."

"All right then. Basically you can go anywhere, look at anything, and talk to anybody. No restrictions. Mitch.e.l.l will have copies of the master training schedule and map overlay with him at all times. You need a helicopter lift somewhere, let him know in advance. I don't really recommend using our helicopters, though, because the pilots are d.a.m.ned near brand new and really won't be ready until just before we deploy, if we do."

"Ground trans should be fine," Ridenhour answered. "If I really need a chopper my budget can cover hiring a civilian one. I'll pa.s.s it through your man Mitch.e.l.l to clear it with you if I have to do that."

"That's fair," Carrera agreed. "All I can tell you is have fun and that I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

Guarasi "Desert" Training Area, Republic of Balboa, 7/10/460 AC Money was less of a problem now; Campos' offer while less than generous had helped a lot lot. Moreover, the interest payments on the loan Carrera had personally made to the legion were being rolled into the operating cost, multiplied by the cost-plus factor, and charged to the Federated States. Thus, Carrera still retained control of the thing, notionally and nominally under Parilla, and would for the foreseeable future. While he had that control, he trained the men.

One major problem was that they were heading to the northern Sumerian desert: dusty, almost treeless, waterless away from the River Busanun, and open outside the cities. Balboa, on the other hand, was about two thirds jungle, much of that being mountainous, and most of the rest either city or valuable farm and ranch land. He could hardly use good farmland for maneuvers or, at least, not for serious ones.

Fort Cameron was about used up. It had never been large enough to train anything as large as the LdC for any purpose higher than initial training for individuals. The Imperial Range Complex, too, was overstrained as were the local training areas attached to the old Federated States military installations, most of which the legion had no access to anyway.

There was was a useful open training area at the a useful open training area at the Lago Sombrero Lago Sombrero, about fifty miles down the coastal highway east of Ciudad Balboa. This was an old Federated States military base built to defend Balboa from attack during the Great Global War. In time, it had been returned to the Republic. Architecturally it wasn't much, a dozen barracks suitable for housing perhaps one thousand officers, centurions and men, and a large ammunition storage facility. More important was the airstrip that sat astride the main highway that paralleled the northern coast and connected Balboa with Atzlan and the Federated States to the south and east. Most important were the fifteen square kilometers of training land. Even this wasn't really enough though. Neither did it match well enough the d.a.m.ned desert the legion was going to fight in, Inshallah. Inshallah.

There was also a patch of ground, the Guarasi "Desert," just a bit inland from the northern coast and rather past Lago Sombrero Lago Sombrero. It was...sort of...kind of...almost...a desert. At least it looked something like a desert, having roughly 19,000 dusty acres of various kinds of cactus (and the odd breadfruit tree and tranzitree) amidst a barren landscape of erosion, loss of topsoil, overgrazing and general environmental devastation. It still received forty inches of rain a year so the desert a.n.a.logy could sometimes seem very strained.