Come and Take Them-eARC (27 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

Almost all of our relationships begin and most of them continue as forms of mutual exploitation, a mental or physical barter, to be terminated when one or both parties run out of goods.

—
W. H. Auden

UEPF
Spirit of Peace
, in orbit over Terra Nova

Wallenstein was alone in her office…well, alone but for a bottle of the good stuff, flown up from the Kingdom of Anglia. The bottle was emptying fast, which was remarkable in someone who rarely drank to excess. But then, Marguerite had her reasons.

The difference between myself and the late High Admiral Robinson
, thought High Admiral Wallenstein,
is that he tried to use two opposed forces, Islamic barbarism and modern cosmopolitan progressivism, to do two opposed things. It was never possible for the latter to win and castrate all their atavistic tendencies toward aggression out of the new world. It was never possible for Islamic barbarism to triumph over the power of the modern state. Neither was it possible for both together to have achieved this, even if they’d been able to really work together, which they were not.

My approach is different. I don’t want to—because I don’t think I can—knock down Terra Nova. Instead, I want to build up first the Tauran Union, using a can’t lose war with Balboa as a catalyst to create a real country from the hate-each-others’ guts collection that exists. Then I’ll create a union in Colombia Latina, which will use driving out the Taurans as its mechanism for unity. Then a combined Islamic-South Uhuran state that I will usher into the modern universe. And lastly, I would push Xing Zhong Guo—New Middle Kingdom—into trying to exercise hegemony over its end of Taurania. All the while leaving enough could-go-one-way-could-go-another territory between all of them that they’re perpetually at each other’s throats, while the UEPF keeps in position to help whoever was the underdog, to ensure perpetual conflict, and all those eyes down below focused on their own problems and their own hates…because as long as they were doing that, they wouldn’t be thinking of how to get at us and they wouldn’t have the resources to spare to build a fleet to come after Old Earth.

And five, historically, has been the perfect number for great power stability.

Meanwhile, back home, I could use the fact of perpetual war here to get the bleeding heart tendency—which normally detests the Peace Fleet—to support us for the humanitarian work we’d do.

It was perfect…and then that fuck-faced piece of French-speaking shit had to go and fuck it all up one me. The pussy. One would almost think he was the brother of that cowardly bitch, Marine R.E.S. Mors du Char the Fourth.

And the crawling filth won’t even answer the communicator I left him so that I can chew him out properly.

Awkwardly, she plucked a few ice cubes from the bucket left by Esmeralda and dumped them in her glass. Just as awkwardly, she pulled the cork from the bottle and poured about four fingers’ worth over the ice. In putting the cork back in the bottle she managed to tap the glass with the bottle’s base, spilling ice and scotch all over the desk. Coriolis force made the scotch run across the desk rather strangely.

“Fuck!”

Esmeralda appeared instantly at the office door. “Are you all right, High Admiral?”

Wallenstein looked up, mildly slack faced. She wanted to say,
No, I’m not all right. All my plans have been ruined by the weakness of a Gallic barbarian, below. I am lonely. I am
desperately
horny. I think you are beautiful and sweet and I wish I could take you to bed. But that would be rape, on my part, even if I made you get on top…which I would, since I’m a submissive precisely so I can unwind from the stress of being in charge and responsible. But never mind the details; it would also be a betrayal of Richard, who adores you. And that betrayal might be even worse than the rape.

Some looks come through even the slackest, most drunken face. That one was easy to read. Esmeralda’s answering look was,
I will, if you want.

Oh, I want. But it would still be rape. So, no. I know what that’s like and you deserve much better.
Just in case the cabin girl and sometimes brevetted officer didn’t understand, Marguerite shook her head most reluctantly.

“Just toss me a towel, please,” the high admiral slurred. “I can clean up after myself. Then you go to bed.”
Before I weaken and change my mind. Because you make me very weak…very…

* * *

Esmeralda left the light on in her narrow bunkroom next to the high admiral’s. Lying on her back, with a light sheet and comforting blanket pulled up to just over her breasts, she looked over at and thought about the connecting door that led from her tiny cabin to the high admiral’s. She realized that the reason for the door and the proximity was precisely so that cabin boys and girls could be of greatest use—which had nothing to do with pouring drinks or cleaning spills—to whoever held the office for the time. She felt, as she had felt before, tremendous gratitude toward Wallenstein for not putting her to use as the high admiral had every right to put her to use.

And that’s what makes what I am planning—if I can be so bold as to call it a plan—so difficult, that you, beautiful High Admiral Dear, saved me from the chili pot and have since treated me with every kindness. You are so much better than the system you support, how
can
you support it?

Esmeralda pulled out from under her mattress the small book the recruiting sergeant had given her in Aserri and began to read from where she had left off. Somehow, without ever having been to Old Earth, the writers of the book, Dr. Mendoza and his wife, still saw the Castro-Nyeres in all their wickedness, still saw the slave pens of Razona Market, still saw the hearts of young girls being cut out on the
Ara Pacis.
The names they didn’t get, of course, but the trends they saw clearly.

And there are larger factors, High Admiral, than you and me and chili pots, neo-Azteca, and orthodox druids. You represent an evil system, or perhaps a good system gone bad, and I will fight that when I can and destroy it, or help to, if I am able.

Hotel Edward’s Palace, Island of Teixeira, Lusitania, Tauran Union, Terra Nova

Marguerite had really liked the place the last time, not least because, with cliffs on three sides it was easier for the couple of guards she felt safe bringing to watch the ins and outs.

This conference was much smaller than the one earlier. It was smaller by one Gallic general, and his staff, and it was smaller by any number of political and bureaucratic minions. It had Marguerite, though, and her charming AdC, Lieutenant, JG, Miranda. It also had the Five Permanent Members, the FPMs, of the Tauran Union Security Council. These were from Gaul, Anglia, Sachsen, Castile, and Tuscany. These had the power to order Janier. These had the power to remove him if he disobeyed those orders. And the Gaul, Monsieur Gaymard, had the influence, if not the official power, to have Janier run out of the Army of Gaul.

The ministers were there to listen, not to argue. While some of their constituents may have been interested—indeed, probably were interested—in peace, prosperity, fairness, and any number of other feel-good words, this crew…

They want power, time to enjoy it in, and youth to enjoy certain aspects of it with,
thought Wallenstein.
I can work with that.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Wallenstein began, more politely than was strictly necessary, “I’m afraid we have a terrible problem. And I’m afraid you’re going to have to fix it. Or…ah, but wait. Before we get to serious matters, we have a birthday girl among us. Esmeralda, my dear, which birthday is this?”

“Why, my eighty-seventh, High Admiral,” the young girl lied, just as she’d been coached. Not that she couldn’t have kept the same looks, of course; Wallenstein had and she was more than twice that age. But there was a freshness and loveliness about Esmeralda that Marguerite really wanted to rub the Taurans’ noses in.

“Ah. Well happy eight-seventh, my dear. And in honor of your birthday, why don’t you take the rest of the day off. I’m sure the representative of the Gallic Republic”—Marguerite’s voice took on a nasty tone—“whose general has betrayed us”—and rose in volume and viciousness—“and led to the ruination of all our plans”—then quieted—“would be glad to pour the water. Run along, dear.”

“Yes, High Admiral.”

* * *

Esmeralda was armed only with her little book from the recruiting sergeant in Aserri, Santa Josefina. But the book had an address in it, plus several phone numbers and an e-mail address. But how, how in a world so thoroughly documented, and from a star fleet even more thoroughly documented, was she to get a message to someone in the Balboan forces who could make use of her willingness to serve the cause of freedom? She didn’t even think she had the right names. In fact, the only name to which she could put a number or a digital address was Sergeant Riza-Rivera back in Aserri, and that from the business card he’d slipped into the book.

Everything cost, she knew, except back on Old Earth where everything cost unless you were a member of the elite, in which case a number of things came free. But what would it cost to call Santa Josefina from here? The only money she had were the remnants of the per diem she’d been given when acting as the high admiral’s messenger girl pretending to be an emissary. Was that enough?

Twice she went up to the desk and twice she skirted back in fear. The first time was over the cost, when she had no clue what the cost would be. The second time…

What if the Peace Fleet is monitoring communications? What if they hear me trying to betray them? It’ll be out the air lock for sure. And that’s worse than being a bowl of chili. At least the neo-Azteca would have cut my throat first for that. And my body, even if in the form of shit, would have stayed home. But pushed out to suffocate, freeze, and then explode…slowly? Ugh. And my body never to return? Would God bother to even look for such a little insignificant thing as me, in the vastness of space, on the wrong side of the bridge between the stars? Floating forever…no one ever knowing or caring…

Pushing back on and defeating that nascent attack of panic was one of the tougher things Esmeralda had ever had to do. But once she had, she found that the next step, going to the desk clerk, was easier than it had been. She walked up and asked, “Is there a way I can call Santa Josefina from here? The only money I have is this.” She held out about a thousand drachma worth of Josefinan currency.

“You’re a member of the Miranda party, aren’t you, miss?” the desk clerk said. Wallenstein was too well a name for the high admiral to book on her own. For that matter, the five members of the Tauran Union Security Council were too well known. Thus the name of little Esmeralda Miranda had acquired a debt she probably could never pay off.

“I’m Esmeralda Miranda, yes,” she replied.

“Ma’am,” said the clerk, “your calls are free with your suite.”

“Oh…oh, I didn’t know.”

The clerk smiled and shook his head. These super rich types were just so out of touch.

“If you have the number in Santa Josefina,” the desk clerk said, “I’d be glad to put the call through for you, ma’am.” His finger pointed at some booths with sliding doors. “You can take the call over there. I’ll have it sent direct to number seven.”

“Thank you,” Esmeralda said.

“And…ummm…the number, ma’am?”

She read it off from the card. Then she had a horrible thought.
The clerk will call and wait until he had a connection. Then the sergeant is going to answer with, “
Legion del Cid
, Recruiting Station Cedral Multiplex Shopping Mall.” And that will raise too many questions.

“Can you talk me through dialing?” she asked. “I’m just not used to these but…”

“No need to explain, ma’am. Surely I can.”

* * *

“Recruiting Sergeant Riza-Rivera,” came the answer. “
Legion del Cid
, Recruiting Station Cedral Multiplex Shopping Mall.”

Damn, can I call them or what?
thought the girl.

“Sergeant,” she said, “my name is Esmeralda Miranda. I don’t think you’ll remember me but I came into your office and you gave me a little book.”

“Well,” said Riza-Rivera, “I can only think of one girl…short, brown, don’t get a swelled head but really pretty…”
Though my first guess when I saw her was “lesbian.”

“Thanks, that was probably me. But there’s something you don’t know.”

“And that would be?”

“I’m from Old Earth. I’m with the Peace Fleet. And I want to…what’s the word? Oh, yes, I remember. I want to defect.”

“Miss, this is way above my pay grade,” the sergeant said instantly. “Way, WAY above. But if you will give me where you are staying, and a way to contact you, I’ll do whatever I can figure out how to get you in touch with someone who matters. And how long will you be there, miss? That matters, too, I suspect. And…ummm…crap. Okay, whoever finds you will say ‘foxtrot lima.’ You answer with ‘alpha tango.’ Oh, and your room number. If I have to call you back I’ll say, miss, this is Mr. Riva, the desk clerk. I’ll try not to do that, though.”

The sergeant was thinking frantically. Opportunities like this didn’t come along once in a hundred years, he knew. “Ummm…ummm…spend as much time as you can wandering public areas but alone. Put a flower, preferably red, in your hair if you think you can get away with it. And that’s all I can think of for now, miss. If it weren’t for the spy movies I couldn’t have gotten this far.”

Turonensis, Republic of Gaul, Tauran Union, Terra Nova

Khalid wasn’t living in Turonensis, but he passed through often enough, and was known by Fernandez to pass through often enough, that Fernandez contacted him immediately upon receipt of the message—after much filtration—from Sergeant Riza-Rivera.

Khalid didn’t have a photograph of the girl. Riza-Rivera had already checked and found that the security cameras in the recruiting station had long since erased their old recordings. Fernandez had sent the sergeant to an old acquaintance in Aserri, a forensic artist who did work for the Aserri Police Department. The artist, using the more old fashioned sketching technique, aided by facial design software, was able to produce a reasonable likeness of the girl in a few hours.