Carnifex. Part 7

Robinson turned from the window onto s.p.a.ce and looked instead at a map projected on the main screen of his cabin, a local product that-maddeningly, infuriatingly-came from a factory in Yamato, down below. "Kurosawa Vision Solutions," was written in small letters across the silvery frame of the screen.

The map was of Sumer, one of the many wretched, little nation-pustules that dominated the globe below. Once again Robinson played out in his mind the reasons he had decided to a.s.sist a group of radical barbarians to confront the major power-some below said the "hyperpower"-of Terra Nova.

We are stagnant on Earth. In one hundred years, or maybe as few as twenty years if Peace's Peace's engineering officer is to be believed, the Novans will be able to launch ships and do to Earth what Earth did to Terra Nova; colonize it. The big difference being that TN wasn't occupied by people and Earth is. Our system couldn't resist and won't survive. I could nuke them now, we still have some capability. And that knocks Terra Nova back five hundred years so that when they come looking for us in five hundred and twenty they'll have blood in their eye. And this fleet won't be here to stop them because if I nuke Terra Nova the Federated States of Columbia will nuke this fleet to ash. But Earth's engineering officer is to be believed, the Novans will be able to launch ships and do to Earth what Earth did to Terra Nova; colonize it. The big difference being that TN wasn't occupied by people and Earth is. Our system couldn't resist and won't survive. I could nuke them now, we still have some capability. And that knocks Terra Nova back five hundred years so that when they come looking for us in five hundred and twenty they'll have blood in their eye. And this fleet won't be here to stop them because if I nuke Terra Nova the Federated States of Columbia will nuke this fleet to ash. But Earth's Consensus Consensus won't build another fleet to replace the one lost here. They won't even pay to keep up what we have; for that I am reduced to selling art and, sometimes, slaves. won't build another fleet to replace the one lost here. They won't even pay to keep up what we have; for that I am reduced to selling art and, sometimes, slaves.

Robinson sighed deeply and wearily. He had upon his shoulders the whole burden of protecting his civilization and the cla.s.s, his own cla.s.s, which ran it. It was a crushing load.

We sell art. We sell slaves, the refuse of Earth's sixth cla.s.s. And that just to keep my ships running and my crews and their families fed, paid and clothed. Must I run drugs next?

I had hoped to wear down the hyper hyperpower below with a series of costly and indecisive wars. The problem with that is that they appear to be winning. Who would have imagined a single nation-state with that kind of sheer....ooomph? Formidable swine. What they lack themselves they can buy.

At the thought of the Federated States being able to buy what it needed, Robinson's thoughts turned to the soldiers the FSC had bought. Most were wretched, of course, or, if not, banned by their government from doing anything that might lead to casualties. The FSC paid for the upkeep and deployment costs of these, but nothing more. It got about what it paid for, or perhaps a bit less.

But then there are the others, those little brown Latin mercenaries. Those the FSC pays top drachma for and gets full value, too. I wonder how the war in Sumer would have turned out without that ruthless mercenary Legion. Better; of that much I am sure.

Robinson thought back on the extraordinarily clever scheme Captain Wallenstein had come up with whereby sympathetic citizens of Tauran states had given themselves up as hostages to force their governments to pay ransoms to the insurgents in Sumer. It had been clever, but it had ended when someone started kidnapping Taurans for ransom and then feeding them feet first into wood chippers for the nightly news, even after the ransoms had been paid. The supply of volunteers had dried up very quickly after that and even real hostages had not been bargained for anymore. He was reasonably certain that the mercenary Legion had been involved in all that.

But there's never any proof. proof. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

And then there was the humiliation inflicted on the cosmopolitan progressives of Terra Nova by the Legion, from torture stings to simply ignoring the Kosmo press no matter how loudly it howled.

Never mind, I must think to the future.

"Computer, change display," Robinson commanded.

"To what, High Admiral?" the artificial, and vaguely feminine, voice had answered.

"World view. Show me incidents over the last thirty-five local days."

The image changed. Robinson studied.

Nice to see that things are taking a turn for the worse for the FSC in Pashtia. And the piracy along the western coast of Uruhu is encouraging...

"Computer, connect me with the intelligence office."

A male face appeared in one corner of the screen. A male voice answered. "Lieutenant Commander Khan here, High Admiral. Did you want me, sir, or my wife?" Iris Khan's husband meant, do you need another b.l.o.w. .j.o.b or do you actually require intelligence support. do you need another b.l.o.w. .j.o.b or do you actually require intelligence support. He wasn't offended or judgmental about the matter, either way. The UE was very casual about both s.e.x and marital relations. Moreover, it was considered bad form to use someone's wife for s.e.x and not at the same time watch out for the husband's career. He wasn't offended or judgmental about the matter, either way. The UE was very casual about both s.e.x and marital relations. Moreover, it was considered bad form to use someone's wife for s.e.x and not at the same time watch out for the husband's career.

"Khan, tell me about piracy on Terra Nova."

"Yes, High Admiral." Khan played with his computer to bring up some data. "Though piracy exists all over Terra Nova, there are four main nexus for piracy down below." One is the islands and coasts on both sides of the Republic of Balboa. This is mainly concerned with retail robbery of yachts and then reusing those yachts for drug smuggling, along with occasional kidnapping for ransom. A second is the eastern sh.o.r.e of Uhuru which, because of the nature of the trade there, tends to take entire ships and cargo. Ships plying that trade are smallish. A third is the Straits of Nicobar, which is not generally concerned with drug smuggling or theft of cargo but more with ship's safe robbery and kidnapping for ransom. There is some religious element to the Nicobar piracy, at least in the sense that a bare majority of the pirates are Islamic and seem to use Islam as a justification for piracy. They would still be pirates if they worshipped Odin. The last nexus is around the area of Xamar, on Uruhu's western coast. This is not new but has grown substantially over the last several years. Xamar piracy is also, officially, Islamic in intent though, once again, they would be pirates even if they were pagans."

Khan, the husband, pulled up more data from his screen. "Officially, piracy costs the economy down below about twelve to sixteen billion FSD annually. It is believed, however, that the actual incidence of piracy is understated by a factor of about twenty...though it is doubtful that the costs are quite that understated."

Robinson scratched his head. "Interesting. Thank you, Khan. Tell me, did your wife enjoy our session?"

"She says she did, Admiral, but wishes you had pinched her nipples more and come in her mouth rather than her throat. She likes that sort of thing."

"I'll remember that for next time. In the interim, I want both you and she to look into the long term potential for both squeezing funds from and ruining a large scale economy through unchecked piracy. Robinson, out."

5/10/466 AC, Xamar Coast, Western Uhuru "This is becoming tedious, sayidi sayidi," said the Helvetian banker representing a Tauran shipping firm, the Red Star Line. The banker looked rather like a gnome, short and stout and bearded. It was his job to negotiate the release of a dozen merchant sailors taken from a Red Star Line refrigerator ship two weeks prior. The sailors, bound and filthy, lined one corner of the spa.r.s.ely furnished office near the center of the city.

Within the office tea and dates were served by tall, slender women with amazingly large, dark eyes. The women, some of them slave girls, likewise set out a tray of thin bread made from the flour of the chorley, a non-Old Earth species that resembled a sunflower that grew just above ground level, accompanied by local shoug shoug, a mix of ground peppers ranging from "Holy s.h.i.t" to "Joan of Arc," with a very very small admixture of "Satan Triumphant." small admixture of "Satan Triumphant."

Of the women, the eyes were all that could be seen, that, and the seductive swaying even their robes could not conceal. They didn't matter though; the gnome had little use for women.

"Indeed," agreed the formidable, even fierce, looking Hawiye Hawiye tribe chief seated on a cushion opposite the banker. Like the women, the chief was tall and quite slender, despite his years. "As I have told you many times, retrieving your people from these thugs costs me. It costs in money; it costs in arms; it costs in favors and in influence. I would prefer to put our relationship on a more formal and regular basis. But you people..." tribe chief seated on a cushion opposite the banker. Like the women, the chief was tall and quite slender, despite his years. "As I have told you many times, retrieving your people from these thugs costs me. It costs in money; it costs in arms; it costs in favors and in influence. I would prefer to put our relationship on a more formal and regular basis. But you people..."

It was all a polite fiction. The Hawiye Hawiye chief, Abdulahi was his name, didn't actually ransom anyone himself, nor did he have the slightest objection to groups of his underlings seizing infidel shipping. In fact, he sent them out to do so and then maintained, for form's sake, that he was only acting as an intermediary for the return of the crews. This face-saving arrangement was workable, but far from ideal. chief, Abdulahi was his name, didn't actually ransom anyone himself, nor did he have the slightest objection to groups of his underlings seizing infidel shipping. In fact, he sent them out to do so and then maintained, for form's sake, that he was only acting as an intermediary for the return of the crews. This face-saving arrangement was workable, but far from ideal.

"I know, sayidi. sayidi. And I have spoken to my superiors at length on the subject. They've finally agreed to a more...regularized, arrangement." And I have spoken to my superiors at length on the subject. They've finally agreed to a more...regularized, arrangement."

At last, thought Abdulahi. thought Abdulahi. Protection money. Or "Danegeld," as my instructors in Anglia would have called it. Protection money. Or "Danegeld," as my instructors in Anglia would have called it.

"Here is what I propose," said Abdulahi. "Your firm will inform me in advance of when it will have a ship pa.s.sing within this area. You will pay me an amount based on cargo-"

"The displacement," interjected the Helvetian. "My principles are not going to accept allowing your people aboard to inspect cargos. Besides, we could not really be sure they even were were your people without you meeting every ship." your people without you meeting every ship."

"Fair enough," Abdulahi agreed. "Displacement. That can be checked objectively. Moreover, it has a direct, if uneven, relationship to crew size, and therefore ransom potential, as well as docking fees, which likewise bears on money carried in the ship's safe. This is fair and simple enough."

"In any case," the Hawiye Hawiye pirate lord continued, "You will pay a reasonable fee-yes, we will have to agree on what const.i.tutes 'reasonable'-in advance. I will use the money to pay off the pirates who infest our coast." pirate lord continued, "You will pay a reasonable fee-yes, we will have to agree on what const.i.tutes 'reasonable'-in advance. I will use the money to pay off the pirates who infest our coast."

"They will, of course, be free to attack the ships of other firms," added the Helvetian. Which is absolutely necessary to us or those firms will be able to ship cheaper than we can. Which is absolutely necessary to us or those firms will be able to ship cheaper than we can.

"Naturally."

"The question remains, however, can can you control the pirates." you control the pirates."

Abdulahi simply laughed.

6/10/466 AC, Zioni Emba.s.sy, Ciudad Balboa The Jewish Brigadier, Yonatan Bar El, laughed aloud. "Yes, Duque Duque," he answered. "I do do rather understand the problems inherent in the Legion using Zioni equipment in Arab lands. Even your friends-and we in Zion are amazed at some of the friends you've made-wouldn't, just as you say, know whether to support you or shoot at you. Still, you must admit, our rather understand the problems inherent in the Legion using Zioni equipment in Arab lands. Even your friends-and we in Zion are amazed at some of the friends you've made-wouldn't, just as you say, know whether to support you or shoot at you. Still, you must admit, our Chariot Chariot is a tank infinitely superior to the Volgan dreck you've been using." is a tank infinitely superior to the Volgan dreck you've been using."

"The Volgan stuff is better than you admit, Yoni," Carrera replied. "After all, don't you use every piece of Volgan equipment you can get your hands on, after a quality rebuild."

"We do," the Jew admitted.

"Well, we have a substantial, if not quite controlling interest, in the Kirov tank factory. They do a quality initial build. We're pretty happy with our equipment, with a few exceptions."

"Which exceptions," the Zioni inquired. Maybe there was a sale to be made after all.

"Lighter but longer ranged artillery would be nice. Small arms are acceptable but..." Carrera shrugged eloquently.

"But the Volgan Bakanovas don't really have the range you would like."

"They lack range," Carrera admitted. "They lack penetration-"

Lourdes, wearing a long, silk sheath dress interrupted. "Patricio, Mrs. Bar El asked me to her family quarters. Do you mind if I slip out for a few minutes?"

The other half of the sales team, Carrera thought, answering, "Not at all, Carrera thought, answering, "Not at all, miel miel. I'll still be here when you return."

Lourdes pecked chastely at Carrera's cheek before turning to sway away. Yoni Bar El's eyes followed for just as long as politeness permitted, while thinking, Yum. Yum.

"We have a new small arms system in Zion..." he said, once he could tear his eyes away from Lourdes' seductively swaying posterior.

"I know. We've looked at the SAR-47. Not interested."

"Yeah...our troops don't like it either." It was Bar El's turn to shrug. "Though I expected them to like the grenade system that goes with it."

"Now that that looked to have promise," Carrera agreed. "But what we really want is something that takes advantage of all the recent developments in small arms: super fast burst rates to make burst fire practical-the Bakanova has that, but only for two rounds, a cartridge firing a bullet with really superior ballistics, combustible casings, electronic ignition, integral limited visibility sights." looked to have promise," Carrera agreed. "But what we really want is something that takes advantage of all the recent developments in small arms: super fast burst rates to make burst fire practical-the Bakanova has that, but only for two rounds, a cartridge firing a bullet with really superior ballistics, combustible casings, electronic ignition, integral limited visibility sights."

"It's funny, isn't it?" the Zioni observed. "There really are are a number of major...oh...possibilities out there, and n.o.body seems interested in pursuing them. You would think that the FSC-" a number of major...oh...possibilities out there, and n.o.body seems interested in pursuing them. You would think that the FSC-"

"That much I don't really understand myself," Carrera said. "I served in the FS Army for quite a long time. The rifle my troops were last issued wasn't any better, really, than the rifle I'd been first issued. And it was a twenty-year-old design then. But they don't seem able to come up with a new one. This would be fine if the old one were great. But it wasn't."

"In any case," Bar El said, "we've blown our small arms design budget on the SAR-47 and we're stuck with it. And it's not a bad weapon, really. But now, we've got our designers reduced to making oversized pistols for Columbians with p.e.n.i.s envy."

It was Carrera's turn to snicker. Then he turned serious. "You know, Yoni, I still do have money for small arms development. Maybe we could arrange something."

15/10/466 AC , The Base, Tribal Trust Territories, Kashmir, "A superb arrangement, Abdulahi," said Mustafa ibn Mohamed ibn Salah, min Sa'ana. The news was enough to launch Mustafa up from his usual misery to something like hope, maybe even happiness.

The years had been unkind to Mustafa. Naturally tall and vigorous, disaster heaped upon disaster has shrunk him, even as a lingering illness weakened him. With good news so hard to come by, the news brought by Abdulahi was welcome indeed.

Communications for the movement were never secure. The only way to be certain of a secret was to carry it in person. Even the infidel press could not balance out that inferiority, though they tried. And using couriers, too, had its problems, as any number of mujahadin mujahadin grabbed without cause or warrant from airplanes and airports around the globe could have testified. It was infuriating, and-Mustafa had to admit-unexpected, for the infidels to fail to follow their own rules. It was worse when the Kosmos weren't able to shriek, scream and nag their own governments into compliance in their own suicide. grabbed without cause or warrant from airplanes and airports around the globe could have testified. It was infuriating, and-Mustafa had to admit-unexpected, for the infidels to fail to follow their own rules. It was worse when the Kosmos weren't able to shriek, scream and nag their own governments into compliance in their own suicide.

"It is is superb, Sheik. And it can only get better. This one heathen shipping company will be off limits, for a good price. But that doesn't reduce our righteous plundering. It only means we can concentrate on those who have not yet agreed to pay this maritime superb, Sheik. And it can only get better. This one heathen shipping company will be off limits, for a good price. But that doesn't reduce our righteous plundering. It only means we can concentrate on those who have not yet agreed to pay this maritime Yizya Yizya. This will increase the pressure on them to come to an arrangement with us. And each one that does submit increases the pressure on those who have not. One by one they will bow."

Abdulahi laid down a thick briefcase and opened it. Inside, Mustafa could see, were stacks of large denomination bills; Tauran lira, Federated States drachma, masu of Yamato, Volgan gold rubles, Helvetian escudi...

Mustafa felt tears begin to form. Abdulahi turned away, feigning not to notice.

"When here, in our darkest hour, you come to our rescue..." Mustafa began.

"Sheik, when my homeland was torn and my tribe starving, who came to our aid? You did. When the infidels occupied our land, who gave us the means and the encouragement to resist them? You did. Who built for us schools and hospitals? You did. This is a small repayment...with the promise of much more to come."

Later-after Abdulahi had been presented with a recently captured Tauran slave girl to take back with him to Xamar; a small token of Mustafa's appreciation and esteem-Mustafa had sat in his quarters for a long time stroking his beard and looking at the case of money while thinking upon the uses to which it could be put.

It's not that much really, a few million, five at most. I could almost weep for the days when the Ikhwan Ikhwan commanded hundreds of millions of FSD and thousands upon thousands of fighters. commanded hundreds of millions of FSD and thousands upon thousands of fighters.

This money is a start. It is also a suggestion. Along with the Xamari, I must think upon how to direct the seaborne mujahadin mujahadin of Nicobar. Then again, they do not owe me as did Abdulahi and his people. Is it worth my time and effort to try to direct the Nicobars? Perhaps not. Can I make it worth their time and effort to support me? Perhaps so. It must be thought upon. of Nicobar. Then again, they do not owe me as did Abdulahi and his people. Is it worth my time and effort to try to direct the Nicobars? Perhaps not. Can I make it worth their time and effort to support me? Perhaps so. It must be thought upon.

For now, I have the fight in Pashtia to worry about. And, even though I am a son of the Prophet, peace be upon him, I find I must worry, that I must not leave everything to Allah.

What a strange thought that is. The filthy Nazrani Nazrani say that "G.o.d helps those who help themselves." How odd that this seemingly impious notion should infect me, and yet it may be so. I must set the mullahs to searching the Holy Koran and the Sacred Hadiths to see if this idea may be religiously supportable. say that "G.o.d helps those who help themselves." How odd that this seemingly impious notion should infect me, and yet it may be so. I must set the mullahs to searching the Holy Koran and the Sacred Hadiths to see if this idea may be religiously supportable.

In any case, if it is not supportable, I do not know what is. Allah has turned his face from us everywhere we relied upon him too heavily. In Pashtia we were slaughtered in weeks. In Sumer, the holy warriors could not face the infidels. Millions have gone over to them, keeping only the sh.e.l.l and shadow of the Faith and none of its meat and drink. Perhaps Allah...

Mustafa sipped at qahwa qahwa, unsweetened coffee brewed from beans still green, and filtered through a piece of hemp rope stuck in the spout. There was a thought there, an important thought that had gone skittering away. Perhaps Allah.... Perhaps Allah.... what? what?

Perhaps this is another test of our faith in him? Perhaps. But...Aha! There is the thought. There is the thought. What if it is as much a test of His faith in us? What if it is as much a test of His faith in us?

A serving boy, a slave but not a Tauran, bent to refill Mustafa's cup. The Emir Emir of the of the Ikhwan Ikhwan stopped the boy by covering the cup with his hand. stopped the boy by covering the cup with his hand.

"Go," he said. "Find and bring me Nur-Al-Din, the Misrani, and Abdul Aziz who helps manage the accounts. Bring me, too, Mullah al Kareem, that we might use his insight into the holy words. When that is done, brew more qahwa. qahwa. It will be a long night. It will be a long night.

16/10/466 AC, Training Area Thirty-Five, Isla Real Leave was never quite "leave" when Carrera returned from the war. Rather, it was his opportunity to observe, direct and correct the training and administration taking place behind him.

There was only one moon up this evening, Eris, but she was full, casting sharp shadows on the ground. At that, Eris only provided perhaps twenty percent of the maximum illumination possible from Terra Nova's three moons.

Under that moonlight, battle-dressed and wearing night vision goggles, Carrera watched an infantry platoon from Fourth Tercio Tercio going through their paces in setting up a night ambush. It looked professional; it looked well-oiled. Yet something bothered him about it and he wasn't sure quite what. going through their paces in setting up a night ambush. It looked professional; it looked well-oiled. Yet something bothered him about it and he wasn't sure quite what.

"What's wrong with this, Jamey?" he asked Soult.

Soult shrugged. "No clue, boss. It looks fine by me."

"Yeah...yeah, that's it. It looks looks fine. How does something look that fine? When does real war ever fine. How does something look that fine? When does real war ever look look that fine? Let's go trip into the objective rally point, shall we?" that fine? Let's go trip into the objective rally point, shall we?"

The two were challenged by the team left behind at the objective rally point, or ORP, with the platoon's rucksacks. That was fine, too, but not in a way that bothered Carrera.

"Don't tell anyone I'm here," he told the sergeant in charge. "I just want to watch for a bit."

The sergeant was obviously not happy about that. If his tribune, Cano, came back and found Duque Duque Carrera waiting for him without his having been warned, there'd be h.e.l.l to pay later on. Carrera waiting for him without his having been warned, there'd be h.e.l.l to pay later on.

Carrera understood that. "Jamey," he said, "stick with the sergeant so that when his tribune comes to rip his b.a.l.l.s off he can plead superior orders and and no opportunity." Soult went and stood next to the sergeant while Carrera walked to the side of the ORP nearest the ambush and waited. With his goggles on, he could just make out the ambush position, though not the men in it who had all gone p.r.o.ne. He continued forward until he could make out the waiting legionaries, then stopped and went to one knee to watch. no opportunity." Soult went and stood next to the sergeant while Carrera walked to the side of the ORP nearest the ambush and waited. With his goggles on, he could just make out the ambush position, though not the men in it who had all gone p.r.o.ne. He continued forward until he could make out the waiting legionaries, then stopped and went to one knee to watch.

Mannequins joined to each other and suspended from a cable strung tightly between two trees began to enter the kill zone, in single file, pulled by someone off to the right, somewhere. Carrera saw them move across at a walking pace, a pace a group of Salafis might well take up when they thought they were safe but had to get somewhere.

The target mannequins-there were twelve of so of them, Carrera thought-were fully in the target area when the entire scene was brightly, if momentarily, lit by the flashes of two directional mines. Carrera ducked his chin onto his chest against the backblast and the fragments.

There followed rifle and machine gun fire; dozens of weapons sending out streams of tracers into the jungle downrange. Mannequins began to drop to the ground as bullets found the inflated balloons within sandbags that held them to the cable overhead. The bullets pierced the balloons, collapsing them and letting them and their sandbags flow through the harnesses, detaching them from the overhead cable.

This continued for a minute before there was a whoosh whoosh as a star cl.u.s.ter launched into the sky. The ground was suddenly lit in a bright magnesium light. Carrera heard a whistle and then voice commands. Men began to move rapidly across the kill zone, shooting every mannequin once more in the head as it lay on the ground. Special teams searched the "bodies," collecting doc.u.ments of intelligence value, communications devices, and weapons. The doc.u.ments, cell phones and one radio were turned over to the platoon leader. A pile was made of the captured weapons, which pile a two-man team prepared for demolition. as a star cl.u.s.ter launched into the sky. The ground was suddenly lit in a bright magnesium light. Carrera heard a whistle and then voice commands. Men began to move rapidly across the kill zone, shooting every mannequin once more in the head as it lay on the ground. Special teams searched the "bodies," collecting doc.u.ments of intelligence value, communications devices, and weapons. The doc.u.ments, cell phones and one radio were turned over to the platoon leader. A pile was made of the captured weapons, which pile a two-man team prepared for demolition.

At some point-Carrera presumed it was when the intel collection team reported to the platoon leader that the bodies were clear-another star cl.u.s.ter was launched. Men began to scurry back to the ambush line, even as the demo team shouted "Fire in the hole" and pulled the igniters that led to the charges they'd placed on the arms.

Once the demo team had cleared away, there was another whistle blast and, once again, the rifles and machine guns poured lines of death into the jungle opposite the ambush line. Voice commands followed and, by ones and twos the ambushing platoon began to form up to fall back to the ORP.

"It's too too smooth," Carrera whispered. smooth," Carrera whispered.