Carnifex. Part 13

She was doing just that, slapping into submission the chief's newest concubine, a fifteen-year-old Cochinese girl seized from a refugee barge, when armed men began emerging from the steamy jungle surrounding the village. Lin opened her mouth to call out a warning. She stopped and closed it again when she saw just how many many fighters were swarming the place and how quickly they were doing it. fighters were swarming the place and how quickly they were doing it.

Wide-eyed, Lin stood with a basket of laundry on one hip, her free hand still raised to strike the Cochinese, when a man materialized in front of her and made pushing motions with the rifle held crossways in front of him. She used her free hand to grab the Cochinese by the ear and pulled her in the direction-the center of the village-where the armed man had indicated he wanted them to go.

The thing that was surprising, perhaps, was that Lin was neither terribly upset nor terribly afraid. She had herself been seized in a raid when she was even younger than the Cochinese. As she'd discovered then, she was a woman, she was not a threat or compet.i.tor, and she had value. She might be raped but she'd been through all that before and survived well enough. Nothing worse was likely to happen to her now. As a matter of fact, Lin didn't even necessarily object to being raped as long as she wasn't going to be permanently damaged by the experience.

Al Naquib and Parameswara stood in the village center, watching as the people-men and boys, women and girls-were herded, cattle-like, inward. and Parameswara stood in the village center, watching as the people-men and boys, women and girls-were herded, cattle-like, inward.

"Fine," al Naquib al Naquib said, "you have control of the village. Who do you want killed?" said, "you have control of the village. Who do you want killed?"

"Maybe...n.o.body," Parameswara answered. "Dead, they no use...me...anybody. I see how it fall out."

Mustafa's man merely shrugged, Up to you. Up to you.

Parameswara nodded and walked out into the center of the square.

"I'm glad you were all so eager to talk to me," he began with a smile, eliciting a nervous chuckle from the villagers. "And I hope you don't mind that I invited a few close friends along." Parameswara's hand swept around, taking in the more than two hundred that accompanied him.

That earned another ma.s.s chuckle, a bit more sincere than the first. After all, why not? He hadn't killed anyone yet and it never hurt to laugh at someone else's jokes. Even Chang Tsai, the chief of the village, joined in the laugh. He, most especially, feared being dead soon. What better reason to try to ingratiate himself with Parameswara?

The Malay chief had a gift for oratory. He spoke of the rising sun and the setting sun. He talked of the low tide always returning as a new high. He talked of the Prophet and he spoke of the Buddha. He waxed eloquent over the future and the past.

What he means is, we join him or he kills every man, woman and child in the village, thought Chang Tsai. thought Chang Tsai. It would be better to join. It would be better to join.

15/3/467 AC, Kamakura, Yamato Yamato had this much difference with the Salafis; whereas the Salafis emigrated to Terra Nova to recreate the seventh century of Old Earth, Yamato had preferred recreating the latter third of the nineteenth and earlier third of the twentieth, with a profound profound nod of respect to the thirteenth through seventeenth. About the entire Pearl-Harbor-to-the-deck-of-the-USS Missouri fiasco, back on Old Earth, they preferred to forget (though the rebuilt Yasukuni Jinja had some hundreds of thousands of mementos). They were none too interested in delving too deeply into the mistakes of the Great Global War, either. nod of respect to the thirteenth through seventeenth. About the entire Pearl-Harbor-to-the-deck-of-the-USS Missouri fiasco, back on Old Earth, they preferred to forget (though the rebuilt Yasukuni Jinja had some hundreds of thousands of mementos). They were none too interested in delving too deeply into the mistakes of the Great Global War, either.

That meant, in practice, that the Imperial Court still had tremendous power within the country, though the power was almost always expressed subtly. Indeed, it was usually expressed so subtly that no one could really be certain what the Emperor actually meant, most of the time. Some of this was, of course, in the way questions to the Throne were phrased.

"His Highness said what? what?" asked Mr. Yamagata of his colleague, Mr. Saito. Each was a representative of a major shipping company. Yamagata's brought in oil; Saito's exported finished goods.

"I mentioned to His Highness," answered Saito, "that ships bringing oil to our land endured many dangers. He answered, 'Sometimes we must endure the unendurable.'"

Yamagata took off his bottle-thick gla.s.ses and cleaned them with his tie.

"That is a remarkably forthright answer from Him," he observed. "It seems clear enough, then, as clear as it ever is, that the Imperial Navy is not going to help us. What do we do then?"

"I came to the same conclusion. As to what we must do, I asked the Emperor, 'Shall not the sons of the Son of Heaven resist tyranny and robbery?' He answered with the questions, 'Does not the law forbid private persons from bearing arms? Has the land not seen untold misery from uncontrolled violence?'"

"s.h.i.t!" exclaimed Yamagata.

"s.h.i.t," echoed Saito more softly. "It was a curious audience. Before I left, His Imperial Highness said, 'Sometimes, we must allow ourselves-like Miyamoto Musashi-to be tossed about by the waves of the sea.'"

Yamagata's left eyebrow lifted, subtly. "Wave tossed? Ronin Ronin?"

Ronin meant, in j.a.panese, "wave man," as a masterless samurai was said to be tossed through life on the waves. Many ronin, throughout the history of j.a.panese culture (which history and culture were largely carried over to Yamato on Terra Nova), became mercenaries. Miyamoto Musashi-old j.a.pan's "sword saint"-had been ronin.

Saito shrugged. "That much of His Highness' words I did not not comprehend." comprehend."

"Perhaps I do," answered Yamagata.

BdL Dos Lindas, Mar Furioso, 3/22/467 The seas were calm and the waves were light, the ship barely taking notice of them.

Montoya took his meal standing in the crowded wardroom. There were seats, a few of them, available, but he'd discovered he really enjoyed watching the maintenance crews in the hangar deck at work. There was a euphony to it, a symmetry. Of course, the irregular pounding from the engine repair shop next to the wardroom was anything but euphonious.

Working in harmony together or not, the crew was frazzled; there was no better word. Montoya had flown three training missions yesterday and two already today. This was bad enough on him; on the ordnance, fuel, maintenance and deck crews it was simply exhausting. And that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Fosa showed no indication so far that he intended to let up for an instant.

Is he going to push us until half of us are dead? Already, half a dozen pilots and twice that in deck crew had perished under the relentless drilling. Already, half a dozen pilots and twice that in deck crew had perished under the relentless drilling.

From the speakers Montoya heard played six notes of Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries, then, "Battle stations; battle stations. Pilots...."

Seems he is.

Montoya's plate was dropped and he was out the door before the speaker had a chance to finish, "...man your aircraft. RPV pilots to your stations. Cazadors to the a.s.sembly area on the hangar deck."

A few weeks ago there'd have been a mad dash for the hatch and a human traffic jam both there and at the ladders leading topside. The sailors and pilots moved just as briskly now, but they'd learned the techniques of transforming themselves from a mob to a ma.s.s. Montoya waited his turn at the hatch, then again at the ladder, before easing himself into the only kind of river that flowed uphill.

Topside, Montoya saw what he'd expected to see. Three Crickets were parked in a shallow upside down V just forward of the carrier's Island. Well behind those were half a dozen Turbo-Finch Avengers in two Vs. On the port side the men of the alert company of the Cazador demi-cohort struggled to organize themselves before boarding the eight Yakamov helicopters lined up along the angled deck.

At the top of the ladder Montoya turned half right, which is to say toward the stern and the Finches, and began to trot to where a staff officer of the air group was sorting pilots to planes.

"Montoya!" the staff weenie shouted to be heard over the growing roar of engines and the loudspeakers on the island playing Ride of the Valkyries Ride of the Valkyries. "Number four spot. Your load is rocket and gun pods. Tribune Castillo is Air Mission Commander. Orders will be radioed just prior to take off. Go, son!"

The crew chief for the plane gave Montoya a leg up onto the wing. Standing, he threw one foot over onto the aircraft's seat, then pulled in the other. To save half a second he'd developed the technique of simply tossing his legs out from under and letting his a.s.s slam into the seat. As his a.s.s. .h.i.t, his hands were reaching for the helmet. Only when it was on, and a commo check made, did he begin to strap himself in.

The radio crackled. "Boys, this is Castillo. Target is a small boat about seventy five miles from here on a heading of Three One Two, I say again, Three One Two. Just FYI, the skipper informed me that the target boat is small, fast and under radio control so it is going to be a b.i.t.c.h to put down. There'll be a control boat about two miles to the north of the target. DON'T go after the control. It's painted white while the target is sea green so even you blind b.a.s.t.a.r.ds ought to be able to stay away from it. Now let's wait for the Crickets to get out of the way and we'll take off in standard order, One through Six."

"Any questions?"

32/3/467 AC, FSS Ironsides, Xamar Coast "Any questions?" asked the admiral commanding the Ironside's Carrier Battle Group after he explained the rules of engagement for the carrier and her escorts. Had a kinder fate intervened the steel gray old sea dog just might have become the chief of naval operations for the FS Navy. As it was, the Progressive administration was nearly certain to last past the admiral's mandatory retirement date. And the Progs would never let him or anyone like him become CNO. The same was true of the Army, FSAF and FSMC. The most aggressive, most traditional, most militaristic and least progressive senior officers had already been given the word: "There will be no place for you in the future and the sooner you retire the better for everyone."

"Just one, sir," said Ironside's captain, a former shoo-in for admiral himself, now doomed, it seemed, to be cast aside. "What's the f.u.c.king point of our being here?"

"Why, to suppress piracy, Captain," the admiral rejoined. "Didn't you listen to me when I explained the rules of engagement? They're clear as thin mud."

"On, not nearly that clear, surely, Admiral. Rule One: 'Guaranteeing free travel by merchant shipping is the number one priority' makes sense enough. But then we run into Rule Two: 'All human life is to be treated as sacred.' I think that must include pirate life as well, no? Rule Three: 'Ships and boats will not be stopped on the high seas without a warrant emanating from probable cause as determined by a federal judge.' There's going to be time to get a warrant? I don't think so. And then there's Rule Seventeen: 'Ships and boats not in the act of attacking merchant shipping will not be attacked.' Does that mean that once a pirate's made a successful attack and is on the way back we cannot engage? I think it does. And Rule Fourteen? 'All hostage situations will immediately be referred to the National Command Authority for determination of appropriate action.'

The captain crumpled up his paper copy of the ROE and dropped it disdainfully to the deck. "It's a waste of time, Admiral. We could deploy the entire fleet here and under these p.u.s.s.y rules it still still wouldn't stop the piracy." wouldn't stop the piracy."

1/4/467 AC, UEPF Spirit of Peace Always good to see my prime enemy wasting its time, mused High Admiral Robinson, watching on his screen as a group of Xamaris returned from a raided ship. The FSN wasn't interfering so the Xamaris must have grabbed some of the pa.s.sengers or crew. The ROE for the battle group, a copy of which Robinson had received almost before the admiral commanding, made any quick reaction, or any action that might be proactive, essentially impossible. These he had pa.s.sed on to Abdulahi, together with some pointed suggestions on just how to use the ROE to advantage.

Not only is the b.a.s.t.a.r.d using them to his advantage, but in the face of TN's only real naval power's helpless flailing about, its inability to control what amounts to seagoing camel drivers, more major shippers are buying protection from Abdulahi. So, of course, the incidence of piracy is down; the FSN can hardly explain that it's down because they failed; the Progressive administration gets to trumpet its "success"...and much of that protection money still still goes to support Mustafa. goes to support Mustafa.

Things are going well in Nicobar, too, if not so spectacularly. Mustafa's boys down there are expanding nicely; seven bands, it is, fallen under Parameswara's control. Of course, supporting Parameswara is a net money drain on Mustafa, for now, and not a small one. But he'll make all that up and more once the Nicobars can get in on the racket in style.

Nicobar Straits, 7/4/467 It had all been going far too well, Parameswara knew. Something had to go wrong eventually.

"Eventually" came in the form of another group of Malay pirates heading out just as Parameswara's group was moving in. The outgoing pirates spotted one of Parameswara's launches looking alone and vulnerable and motored over to seize it. By the time they realized that that launch was not alone it was too late; the seizure turned into a fight which quickly escalated into a general melee at sea.

Parameswara's boys won that fight handily. When they were finished, and it only took a matter of minutes, three of their foes boats were burning on the haze-covered water. The boats themselves were draped with hacked and shot bodies, the blood that collected in the scuppers beginning to steam from the heat.

It's a terrible waste of good seacraft, Parameswara mourned. Parameswara mourned.

Worse, though, was that the fight, while desperate in places, had overall gone too easily and ended too quickly. Their blood up, Parameswara's men hastily forced a landing and began an a.s.sault into the village from which their fellow Malay pirates had come. There, the ma.s.sacre became general with the a.s.saulting pirates shooting or hacking down old men, women, children and even the dogs and pigs of the place.

It was only with the greatest difficulty, and only after the huts were already burning, that the pirate chieftain and al Naquib al Naquib were able to bring the men to order. By that time, there was nothing left but fifty or so women and children, most of them already raped at least once, remaining. The survivors wept, some of them. Others stood in shock. Parameswara was shocked himself. were able to bring the men to order. By that time, there was nothing left but fifty or so women and children, most of them already raped at least once, remaining. The survivors wept, some of them. Others stood in shock. Parameswara was shocked himself.

"It was so d.a.m.ned unnecessary," he cursed at no one in particular.

"I'm not so sure," said al Naquib al Naquib, who was rapidly picking up the local lingo. "We had already, maybe, made as much peaceful progress as we could. Didn't you pick your early conquests based on how likely they would be to fold without without having to fight or ma.s.sacre? Didn't you push the ones most likely to resist to the back of the list? Was not this group one you thought might put up a fight anyway?" having to fight or ma.s.sacre? Didn't you push the ones most likely to resist to the back of the list? Was not this group one you thought might put up a fight anyway?"

Parameswara shrugged. It was true but...

"Well they did. And they've paid for it. Now there are just about enough survivors to spread the word: If you resist the great new pirate king, Parameswara, all you will earn is death. So let's let these go with nothing but the clothes on their backs, their eyes to weep with and their tongues to spread the word."

Within a fortnight, the first chief of the still independent pirate bands along either side of the Nicobar Straits arrived at Parameswara's newly fortified coastal town to offer his allegiance to the new paramount chief.

16/4/467 AC, First Landing, Hudson, FSC Matthias Esterhazy had no real idea why Mr. Saito and Mr. Yamagata had asked to see him. Their credentials suggested only that they were deeply involved, and very prominent, in Yamato's considerable shipping industry. He considered it most likely that they were interested in doing business with either Chatham, Hennessey and Schmied, Patricio's family firm and no inconsiderable shippers themselves, or its Balboan subsidiary, Alexander Steamship Company.

He'd done business with the Yamatans before, especially when he'd worked for SachsenBank. Thus he was unsurprised that the two businessmen, and a third who'd accompanied them, beat around the bush with meaningless pleasantries for more than an hour.

Actually, the third man-they'd introduced him only as "Captain Kurita"-said absolutely nothing. He's the interesting one He's the interesting one, Esterhazy thought. Old, clearly he was very old, Kurita sat serene and upright. However silent Kurita may have been, and however ancient, Esterhazy saw keen intelligence in his eyes and thought he detected a wry amus.e.m.e.nt in his face.

He'd almost stopped listening to Saito and Yamagata until he heard, "And in the long run, it's just unsupportable, the price they demand to allow our ships pa.s.sage."

They'd worked they're way from "Nice weather you're having here" to "Help" and Esterhazy hadn't even been aware of the transition. He looked at Kurita's face again. Yes, there was definitely amus.e.m.e.nt there. Perhaps he'd seen Taurans and Columbians trying to communicate with Yamatans before.

Kurita turned that gnarled, ancient face toward Esterhazy and spoke his first words since introductions. "Danegeld, Tribune Esterhazy. They don't want to pay Danegeld."

Matthias' head flew back in surprise. That the Yamatan had used the expression "Danegeld" was one thing. He could well have-indeed probably had-been at least partially educated in Anglia or the FSC. But that he knew Esterhazy's legionary rank was simply shocking.

"I have kept up my contacts with Imperial Naval Intelligence, Tribune," Kurita explained, "even though the men who run it are the grandsons and even great-grandsons of the men I served with in the Great Global War. They told me who you were."

Mentally, Esterhazy made a note to inform Carrera that Yamatan Naval Intelligence kept a file on the Legion. He also did some quick calculations. Kurita had to be over ninety years old. He didn't look it.

"The Great Global War?" Esterhazy questioned.

"Yes...at the end I was captain, Battlecruiser oishi oishi."

Subtracting 410 AC from 467 AC, and adding in a reasonable time to progress in rank, Matthias came up with the astonishing figure of at least ninety-seven years for Kurita. Wow; and he doesn't look a day over eighty. Wow; and he doesn't look a day over eighty.

Kurita went silent and serene again, while Saito picked up. "As the good captain, says, Mr. Esterhazy, we do not want to pay Danegeld. It never ends and, if history is any guide, the price always goes up past the point one can afford to pay. For that matter, how much longer until the pirates themselves go into the shipping business and drive us completely out? Whatever your principle might charge us to end this problem, it will certainly be less than what the pirates will cost us in the long term."

"My principle, as you call him, Mr. Saito, is not really in the naval business-"

"Yes, he is," answered Kurita, "now or soon."

"And you have no idea what he charges-"

"Yes, we do."

Once again, Esterhazy turned his gaze back onto Kurita. Maybe you do. And, one supposes, you also know about his little fleet. Maybe you do. And, one supposes, you also know about his little fleet.

"It's likely to cost on the order of five billion FSD a year, sirs. It could be twice that, even three times."

"We know," said Saito. "And what will it be over fifty years if the problem does not end now? And what is the price when the price becomes so high we are economically strangled? We are an island country that depends depends on imports and exports. Mr....Tribune Esterhazy, without freedom of the seas, we on imports and exports. Mr....Tribune Esterhazy, without freedom of the seas, we starve. starve."

"Moreover," interjected Kurita, "Mr. Saito and Mr. Yamagata are not alone in this. All seventeen major and minor zaibatsu in Yamato, plus one which is in bankruptcy for the moment, wish to offer their support. In addition, His Majesty's Navy is willing to provide a certain amount of under the table support, to clandestinely curtail operations and overstate expenditures to provide aid beyond the merely monetary."

"You understand I must speak to my principle before I can commit."

"We understand," answered Kurita, and for the first time Esterhazy realized that it was he, not the businessmen, who was senior. "And we have one additional condition."

"And that would be?"

Kurita serene look became for a moment predatory. Decades Decades fell away. "They have robbed and murdered my countrymen. fell away. "They have robbed and murdered my countrymen. I I will accompany your flotilla. will accompany your flotilla. I I will see these bandits destroyed." will see these bandits destroyed."

27/4/467 AC, BdL Dos Lindas, Isla Real "I'm amazed at how well you've done," Carrera said admiringly to Fosa, as the two stood on the open, upper bridge, high above the flight deck. Below, two crewman refueled a Cricket as a small team of four rearmed a Finch, easing rockets into the nineteen round outboard pods and winding .41-caliber ammunition into the inward ones. The .41 ammunition was the same as used in the Legion's new standard heavy machine gun as well as in the Long Range Sniper system. In this case, it was being cranked into pods that held .41-caliber, electrically-driven, tri-barrels. These same guns were mounted in various spots on the carriers and her escorts. The rockets were standard Volgan 57mm folding fin types, a mix of high explosive, incendiary and flechette.

Fosa shrugged. "The foreigners helped a lot. A decent budget helped more. We could use another month but..."

"You sail in nine days," Carrera said simply. "You will sail in company with one frigate, two corvettes, two Patrol Torpedo Fasts, a minesweeper, an ammunition ship, and two other supply ships. Someday, I may actually have a submarine or two for you. You will also have one former pa.s.senger liner, the Wappen von Bremen Wappen von Bremen, which will have aboard her full full recreation facilities. In addition, you will have certain ships put under operational control from time to time, upon which you may put armed men, and which I encourage you to use as bait. If I ever decide to finish up a Suvarov Cla.s.s cruiser, you'll get that, too." recreation facilities. In addition, you will have certain ships put under operational control from time to time, upon which you may put armed men, and which I encourage you to use as bait. If I ever decide to finish up a Suvarov Cla.s.s cruiser, you'll get that, too."

"You may a.s.sume," Carrera continued, "that all ports will be officially closed to you. That said, certain concerns in Yamato have volunteered to resupply your resupply ships, but only at some considerable distance from Xamar. They don't want to appear to be involved.

"From this bay you will make transit, then proceed to the Xamar Coast. There you will take all actions consistent with suppressing piracy along that coast. Your rules of engagement are suppress piracy. suppress piracy. You may, insofar as I am concerned, legally and morally consider yourself in a time and s.p.a.ce warp that has put your and your group on Old Earth in its eighteenth century. Destroy them without pity or mercy." You may, insofar as I am concerned, legally and morally consider yourself in a time and s.p.a.ce warp that has put your and your group on Old Earth in its eighteenth century. Destroy them without pity or mercy."

"About f.u.c.king time, sir," smiled Fosa, wickedly.